The alien races appeared as confused and intimidated by the gigantic apparatus as the humans. However, the commanders of each of the three groups managed to focus their charges on the mission.
The Wraiths split into groups. Three hurried toward the transport tunnel, aiming for one of the entry slots. Others descended the rings level by level.
The Vikings moved carefully, clearing every corner like a SWAT team sweeping a building.
Jon spread out his force in a picket line and hurried to the next ring. His right flank made contact with the Vikings. One human soldier absorbed a series of rounds in the chest and fell. Another tossed a grenade at the enemy. Its detonation caused a nearby glowing red ball of crystal to explode. The resulting shock wave smashed more machine parts and crippled two Vikings.
Jon’s left flank engaged several Wraiths. Their screams shattered tubes and chipped pulsating rocks and also killed a soldier.
Reverend Johnny responded by climbing on top a large glowing block. He fired from his elevated position at the Wraiths, evaporating one and forcing the others to retreat.
Through it all, the invaders on each side dodged moving walls, swinging hooks, and bursts of energy between power couplings.
Unit cohesion evaporated, for all the combatants. The chaos of the great machine conspired to eradicate any order as did the constant sniping between enemies. Each of the invading forces deteriorated into smaller groups.
No one-alien or human- noticed the covers on three compartments near the ceiling slide open.
Jon, with a trio of soldiers in tow, came to the edge of the ring. The next level sat some six feet below but as he stood at the lip and prepared to leap, he noticed groves that resembled “Look out!” A soldier cried as a massive gear came whirling along the edge like a mammoth wheel.
Jon and his three comrades jumped for the next level, one did not move fast enough. The groves of the gear caught him, crushed him beneath, and split his body in two, half of which stuck to the metallic surface as it rolled away.
The chaos of the machine afforded no time to mourn, no moment for reflection. The instant Jon Brewer hit the floor on the next level he had to avoid an extending pole charged with electricity jabbing out from an opening in the terrace wall. Crackling energy singed the top of his crew cut.
Brewer spoke to the two men on his flanks, “Watkins, Cooper, stick close to me.”
Watkins-a short fellow with a beard who had been nicknamed ‘the Dwarf’ by some of the men-offered, “There are more of my squad in the area, Sir. I can round them up if you like.”
“No time, we have to move fast. Just stay on my six.”
Jon knew he could not waste the time to coordinate the entire team; every second that ticked by meant a Wraith or a Viking could find and imprint the runes first. He suppressed his instinct for military order and gave in to the chaos; the battle for the runes had become one last headlong sprint through this maze of machine with armies dwindling to individuals.
His adrenaline, his focus, and his fear of failure compelled him forward like a junkie in desperate search of a fix and for Jon Brewer, that fix was the need to prove his courage and worth. Not to Trevor, not to Lori, not to his daughter, but to the ghosts of the men he once abandoned on a battlefield the day Armageddon struck.
That focus kept him from seeing those three compartments high on the wall in the shadow of the ceiling. From those compartments came yet more madness in the form of three guardians, one flying out in search of targets, the other two walking down the wall on spindly legs, hidden from view by the pieces of the machine they protected.
Below, a Viking hustled around a mass of wires and rock and came face-to-face with a human soldier who fired and missed, the Viking answered with better accuracy.
Three Wraiths boarded the conveyor-belt in the transport tube. That belt moved them forward quickly until it stopped at another opening in the tunnel for a short pause not unlike a city bus halting to pick up passengers.
A human soldier tossed a grenade at their feet. The demons reached for it, but the conveyor belt moved them forward again into the confines of the tunnel where the grenade exploded with a muffled boom.
Meanwhile, Reverend Johnny ran and jumped across the top of machine parts with his big gun sweeping for targets. He watched humans and Wraiths and Vikings worm through the maze of machinations.
He saw a Wraith impaled by a spear-like device. He saw a Viking fall into an open hole followed immediately by a large rock with pulsating veins dropped into that same hole where it certainly crushed the alien.
Reverend Johnny glanced down and locked his eyes on the black sockets of a Wraith staring up at him. The vile fiend opened its long mouth and began its deadly scream.
“Shut up!” Johnny’s shout lacked his usual elegance but his machine gun provided its usual lethality.
Further away in the space between two house-sized bricks, a Viking soldier found his path suddenly blocked by some mechanical monstrosity walking on three legs supporting a round center piece. On that centerpiece, a track holding a long blade that spun around the body of the thing like a helicopter rotor.
Before the alien realized exactly what he faced, the guardian wobbled forward and cut him into smaller parts. As those parts fell to the floor, the poncho finally settled on a color: red.
Beneath a canopy of meshed wires, a Wraith screamed at a human soldier, exploding his head. But as the body fell, a new threat flew through the air directly at the demonic creature. The confused Wraith saw a sphere slightly larger than a beach ball with a ring of jagged blades around its center and the upper half covered by a large eye that appeared more biological than mechanical. The bottom half spun fast as if providing the propulsion needed for flight.
A moment later, a powder-filled cloak fluttered to the ground with a round hole in its chest.
Jon emerged from the forest of energy towers with Watkins and Cooper to either side. They came to the end of yet another of the terraced rings. Below them waited the next level, the next step closer to the runes.
“Okay, let’s jump down, and watch for surprises.”
Cooper jumped and landed safely. Jon did the same, and then turned to watch for Watkins, who stepped off the ledge but stopped in mid air with a scream coming from his lips.
Something resembling a hose had grabbed the short man and hauled him back up to the ridge above. That hose-like tendril came from one panel of the diamond-shaped third guardian.
It took Jon a long moment to realize that what grabbed his man was not just another mechanical menace from the giant machine, but a separate entity that killed on purpose, not as a side effect.
This guardian walked on spidery legs while the bottom half of its bronze colored, diamond-shaped metallic body sported eyes on all four sides. It made a sound like a wind-up toy or perhaps the workings of a cuckoo clock preparing to chime.
“Aim for the arms or whatever those things are,” Jon ordered Cooper while Watkins struggled in the grip of the creature.
Before bullets fired, the guardian’s diamond-body unhinged at the mid-point revealing metallic teeth that tore away Watkins’ head, beard and all. The hoses then released the decapitated body. It bounced off the ridge and tumbled to Jon’s feet.
Cooper pulled the trigger on his M16, hitting the guardian with several rounds. It retreated out of sight, back into the forest of towers.
With the creature gone-for now-Cooper stopped firing, pulled a crucifix from beneath his white parka, and while he rubbed it between his finger and thumb he asked his General, “What the hell was that?”
“Wow. I don’t know but keep moving, keep-”
Jon pushed Cooper to the ground just in time to avoid a sharp plate swinging neck-high through the machinery…
…Reverend Johnny continued running atop of the mechanisms but he did so with great caution; he found electrified sockets and holes filled with sharp prongs on many of the blocks, spheres, and pillars he jumped to and from. A risk worth taking in exchange for such an improved view of the terrain.
Off to his right he spotted a lone soldier walking toward a set of massive pistons where four Vikings waited in ambush.
“Hey! I say there! Fall back!”
The Reverend’s voice was one of the few man-made sounds capable of rising above the cacophony of clicks, rumbles, buzzes, and clangs.
