Meanwhile, out at sea, nothing much was happening. I was beginning to get bored.
Just when I considered falling asleep for a quick nap, another siren went off, and I heard a rising level of panic in the voices in my helmet. Stifling a yawn, I opened my eyes and looked out to sea again.
There, on the glassy green-black water, something truly significant had begun. The water was bubbling again—but this time it was happening in the region between the translucent dome and the beach.
How can I describe it? Things rose up. These things were big—really big. Each of them was a hulking mass of flesh that reminded me of a huge, mutant octopus. There were tentacles—lots of them—way more than the traditional eight. They started off thick at the neck area, right under that bulbous head, and I was under the impression that each of the tentacles split and subdivided, like the veins in a man’s leg. As they split off, they got thinner, until they formed a squirming mess where they finally submerged in the water.
The monsters were all over the place. They were wading toward the beach from every angle, converging on the island. As they got closer, they kept getting taller and taller, rising up out of the water as a man might appear to do as he marched up the sloping seabed.
My troops began to fire without orders. I couldn’t really blame them. The enemy was in range from the start, and there was no point in waiting around until they got in close.
“Shoot for those bulbs along the mid-level,” Harris ordered. “I think they might be eyes.”
It was as good a plan as any. The troops blazed way, but we soon realized the eye-bulbs—if that’s what they really were—had been protected. A thick film of solid water encircled them, protecting them the way a man’s goggles might protect him from a wind full of grit.
“Forget the eyes,” I shouted. “Go for different points. Probe for something sensitive—I’ll mark some options.”
Using my helmet, I marked one location on the monster at a time. The marks were virtual, and only the men in my unit could see them. The purpose was to focus our fire.
First off, I tried one of the front tentacles, a big fat one near the top of the monster, which became taller and taller as it waded toward us.
I watched with interest as thousands of rounds and bolts struck the region relentlessly. I was gratified to see the limb buck up, as if in pain, then it began to disintegrate. Soon, it was cut off and sloughed away into the ocean.
“Well done, McGill,” Leeson said. “One tentacle down and about six hundred to go, huh?”
“Get those 88s going. Heat up that thing’s hide,” I ordered. “I want two beams, working together, rolling across the monster’s midsection.”
“It’s too far out. These guns aren’t good for much at a kilometer range.”
“Just do it. We’re testing our guns. Maybe we’ll singe it and drive it away.”
I could hear Leeson grumbling about wasted circuits and missed opportunities, but I didn’t care to listen. Less than thirty seconds later, he beamed the monster across the chest, and steam rose up from its wet skin. Zooming in, I could see the skin curling and bubbling.
“Haha, we’re making seafood stew out there!” I shouted over tactical chat. It was always good to sound upbeat when commanding a scaredy-cat group. It kept them from running off or freezing up. “There’s no way that thing’s making it to our beach.”
A few of the men chuckled, but they were still nervous.
It was about then that things shifted in a welcome way. We heard a familiar crackling and hissing overhead.
The sky above us brightened, as if comets were coming down from the heavens. They weren’t comets, however, they were star-fall bolts. These glimmering streaks of energy rose and fell in slow-motion. Rather than using explosive shells, our artillery consisted of plasma spheres that released brilliant flashes of energy when they struck home.
The men cheered to see the first barrage.
“It’s about damned time!” Leeson shouted. “Wait… those fools are aiming too high!”
We all watched, and it was true. Instead of targeting the monsters directly, the star-falls struck the water-dome walls. Each of these impacts released brilliant flashes of light. We squinted and shielded our eyes, lowering protective shades inside our helmets.
“They’re trying to break us out,” Harris said. “Maybe Turov is sending down more lifters with reinforcements.”
I found this unlikely, but I didn’t want to dash anyone’s hope without a good reason. “I bet you’re right,” I lied loudly.
Our hopes were short-lived, however. The monsters were now over halfway to the beach, and they were standing pretty tall by now—as in, around a hundred meters tall. All our efforts to burn and damage these beasts had resulted in a few injuries, but they didn’t look interested in stopping. If anything, they were wading forward even faster after we hurt them.
“Uh…” Harris said, looking up and craning his neck. “McGill? Should we maybe pull back, just a bit?”
“We’ll scatter at the last minute. Everyone, focus on the tips of the smallest tentacles. Maybe they’re more sensitive than the rest.”
“Scatter? The things are only two hundred meters out!”
“Man your weapon, Harris. More shooting and less talking.”
I have to give them credit, my men stood their ground. They blazed away, even as the monster seemed to get impossibly large at the end. We’d known they were big from the start, but just how big hadn’t been clear. Their bodies were built something like a pyramid. I supposed that made sense when you thought about it. Anything that tall would take an insane amount of muscle at the bottom to support it.
