and assisting in maintaining order. The arena was built to serve as a protective shelter and the city’s population would be evacuated into it.
-=+=-
Klaxons blaring, Ian wasted no time taking up his nephew’s hand as they made a run for the car. Dropping his kite string Marcus objected loudly as the great dragon lurched skywards before plummeting unceremoniously earthward.
Ian ignored the boy, stuffing him quickly in his car seat before heading to the arena.
-=+=-
Sara’s assault on her husband stopped as her mind turned to her 16-year-old daughter Lyndy. Running over to help the girl dress she grabbed the man’s keys and headed for his vehicle. He still lay there, moaning.
-=+=-
Tyree was among the other boys as the alarm sounded. Staring helplessly at Troy’s body lying on the ground he called out to them.
“Zack! Troy’s breathing!”
Zack glanced backwards briefly, then back at the rest of the boys retreating from the park before turning on his heel and heading back.
“We can’t leave him. Give me a hand!”
Carefully, Tyree and Zack lifted the injured boy from the ground and supported him between them. Troy now safely in tow Tyree and Zack headed to the arena as well.
-=+=-
Kim panicked. Even with Preston there – her mind flooded with desperation.
Calmly, Preston grabbed hold of her hand and began running. Sitting on his motorcycle he tossed her her helmet – starting the bike while she got on.
Looking back, he gave her a nod to make sure she was secure before kicking the bike into first gear. A quick check for traffic, and he took off.
-=+=-
Jensen thought immediately of his daughter – the daughter that he – stuck in this traffic jam – couldn’t get to. He called the little girl’s parents she was staying with. Fortunately they were heading to the shelter as well and said they would tend to her until he could arrive.
But the streets were clogged. A massive accident blocked the intersection. He hung his head low as he thought about it, and then exited the vehicle. Taking a brief look around, he started to run.
-=+=-
The intensity of Rand’s character had taken over his face, instinct guiding his actions as he jumped into his machine. Locking down the hatch, he proceeded to flip on the safety light in the cabin then paused to take a deep breath.
“Engage.”
Screens flickered to life. Indicators flashed. Switches went from red to blue with a soft click – Rand at the helm. Systems powered up quickly – engines warming up to firing temperature. A rapid succession of soft “ticks” emanated from the speakers of his beast – each tick representing another computer on the network coming online.
Looking around him, the others were mounting up and preparing for launch just as he was. And from the sound of it they weren’t missing a pilot.
The three beasties assigned as Rand’s close range support signaled their readiness – a ritual being repeated again and again throughout the compound as hundreds upon hundreds of heaving, mechanical beasts sprung angrily to life.
As Rand like to put it, they were ready to dispense hell.
A self-contained fortress sitting atop two monstrous, vector-thrust enabled legs Rand’s machine weighed just over 120 tons with full ordinance, and could travel at a maximum of 160mph with a range of nearly 500 miles. Its emu-like legs housed bristling with munitions and hard points its arms were two separate stacks of three enormous rail guns tucked behind an even larger set of protective shields
And – as if that wasn’t enough – each arm’s “shield” was capable of launching a formidable volley of medium range missiles as well.
Even more so were the four cannon – identical to those on a battleship – mounted atop the intimidating mass of munitions storage housings and armor plates Rand considered a “body” - a special array of long-range missile launchers firing straight up from the rear of the machine.
That said along with a few factories worth of equipment along with a tremendous storage capacity and his beast turned into a monster with a seemingly endless supply of ammunition, and power.
And he was about to empty every last bit of it.
Authorization buzzed and hissed over the radio. There was an obvious overdose of venom and sentiment in Silv’s now wavering voice.
He sat, stunned. Silv never lost her cool. Now, he could swear she was crying. He shook it off.
A smirk crossed Rand’s expression as he hit the “all-call”. Clearing his throat, Rand adopted a somber, yet mocking tone.
“Gentlemen…” he started – pausing as if for effect. Smiling, Rand’s demeanor changed as his expression began bordering on maniacal.
“Let’s do this!”
The beasts began to heave, the earth trembling as the gigantic machines roared violently to life – the building bending and twisting from the near-earthquake level forces being driven into the ground below them.
And then - one by one – they lifted from the ground and began their hover.
Silv’s voice broke in. “This is it, Gentlemen. A full-scale assault brought to us by our ‘friends’ in the ‘Northern Lights’. We’ve got a full-scale swarm on our hands, and they aren’t inviting us to dinner.”
Silv continued barking out orders – organizing the forces from the command station locked underground in the military base. Rand’s team went north, Jamie’s northeast, and Tiger’s northwest.
At arrival, their computers linked up for optimal firing configuration, and the ports and hatches on the rear of their beasts opened. Clamps unlatched, and pylons drove outwards from the legs of their machines and into the ground for stability. The first wave of long-range ordinance was now poised, and ready for firing.
Then … silence.
Rand watched his long range sensors – no sign of the bugs. No missile locks. No call to further action. His beast groaned mournfully as if in objection to its sudden bout of inaction.
Suddenly his sensors sprung to life, and the order came.
“Gentlemen … fire at will!”
-=+=-
The arena – meanwhile – was filling as Jensen came across his daughter – still playing with the friend he had left her with.
“Where’s mommy?” she asked.
Her doll – Miho – looked at Jensen while shaking her head sadly. He reached down with a hand and lightly flicked the doll’s forehead.
“I never could figure out how you got so smart.”
Smiling warmly, he held his daughter gently by the shoulders as he knelt before her. “You know the ‘bad things’ – the reason we’re here?”
The girl nodded.
“Your Mommy left to make them go away.”
The vehicles used during the football game now rushing madly about the crews working the arena pushed themselves as they prepared for the incoming crowd. Helicopters made impromptu, emergency supply runs – food and medical supplies necessary to support the local population both during the battle, and after the battle’s end.
Parent upon parent reassured their children, and each other. Some helped their elderly parents and grandparents make entry into the arena while a small contagion of military personnel worked closely with the police to keep things orderly.
Still, there came the frightened cries of a small boy.
Jensen looked to the boy, took him by the hand, and introduced him to his daughter. The child wiped his eyes.
“Uhm, hi.”
“What’s your name, kid?”
The boy looked up at Jensen – who seemed like a giant to him – before stammering. “Tr … uhm … Trevor.”
“OK, Trevor. Are you lost? Is that why you’re crying?”
He nodded.
“Tell you what. Why don’t you stay here and play. I’ll find them for you, OK?”
With Trevor reassured, Jensen turned his attention towards the doll.
“Miho. If anything
happens – if they need me – don’t dawdle. You know how to find me. And don’t let them leave this spot for any reason.”
The doll looked at him, giving her usual smart-assed half-smile in response. An affectionate smile crossed his lips.
“Smug little shit.”
The doll’s reply came – but not after a bit of a “dramatic pause”.
“You got it, boss!”
-=+=-
Columns of missiles began spewing from the beasts in organized clusters carving white, sinewy trails across the skies and into the dark mass – the swarm of “bugs” sent from the Northern Light. Within moments the twilight skies were alight with the fireworks of their destructive force – the bugs plunging headlong into the impromptu wall of long-range, high ordinance explosives, and plasma.
Twisted bits of metal, bone, and flesh began to rain.
As quickly as the initial long-range attack had begun, the complete exhaustion of long-range missiles had Earth’s Defense Forces switching to their medium-range weapons systems.
They did not wait for orders. A brief pause and the columns began again. White, sinewy trails obscured by clouds left behind by the armada of long-range weapons that preceded them.
Pausing only briefly, the forces of the Northern Light now