Anthony DeCosmo - Parallels

"My father and you are alike, and so are our people, are they not? Are we so different?"

Trevor found her tone curious. She spoke as if she grappled with a complex equation and had reached an answer that she hoped would prove correct, but could not be sure.

He replied, "I don’t think we are that different."

Alenna halted the procession at an intersection of sorts. Several passages led away into the bowels of the complex. One led up, ascending toward what appeared to be sun light. A cool, fresh breeze blew down from there.

The little Chaktaw girl turned and faced Trevor. She studied him, her head tilting side to side as she tried to see what lived behind his eyes. Perhaps she wondered if a soul lived there. A question Trevor often wondered himself.

She said, "It seems a shame then, doesn’t it? A shame that we fight like this."

He wondered if by 'this' she meant her Earth, or the larger picture of multiple Earths across multiple universes, each occupied by one race only to be invaded by all the others.

Alenna said, "You have a son?"

"Yes. I’d say he’s exactly your age."

She smiled at his remark and replied, "I’d say you’re right, Trevor Stone. Tell me, what will you tell your son when you get back to your Earth?"

Trevor knelt to her level.

"I’ll tell him about the marvelous little girl I met over here. I’ll tell him about the brave and resourceful Chaktaw people, who have earned my respect."

"Hmm," she wondered. "Then you will fight the Chaktaw who have come to your home. You will kill them if you can."

He did not know how to answer.

Alenna said, "It is rather silly, isn’t it? All this fighting. Sometimes I wonder if it serves any purpose. And if it does, exactly whose purpose does it serve in the end?"

"It's all I've known," he said. "I can't even remember what my life was like before the war began. I've spent the last few years fighting, and not much else."

"My father has lost much for this war. My mother is dead. He had a life before this, you know. He helped people plan for their future. Helped people get ready for-what do you call it? — ready for their‘re-tire-ment’. Yes. He helped them so they could live comfortably. Then the war came and the only future my people can plan for now is a future of fighting."

This time Trevor-still kneeling to face her eye to eye-studied her, and he believed without a doubt that, yes, a soul lived inside Alenna.

Alenna went on in a voice laced with sadness at not only what had happened, but what was to come: "All of our people had to run and hide. But that time is over. We have gathered again."

She pointed to the passage leading toward the light. Trevor stood and followed her outstretched finger. He and Nina ascended the rock tunnel. The light at the end of the passage grew wider and brighter. The air smelled fresh and clean.

The passage opened to a stone balcony high on the mountainside offering a marvelous view of endless mountains rolling off into the distance like ocean waves in a painting.

Fromm stood on the balcony joined by both the human female slave who served as his translator and the Chaktaw guard holding her leash.

Trevor first glanced at Fromm then looked down on the long, wide stretch of grassland below. There gathered an army; Fromm's army.

Thousands of poncho-wearing Chaktaw infantry lined in columns, a thousand Jaw-Wolves standing as still as statues like armored vehicles parked on a parade ground. Pack lizards hauling catapult-like artillery batteries, three-wheeled motor bikes, flat trucks carrying rocket-planes, and hundreds of carts piled high with supplies.

As he witnessed the gathered power of the Chaktaw, Trevor pieced Fromm's story together, taking the parts he already knew and tying them together into one narrative. After the defeat at the lakeside estate, the Chaktaw had separated and hid in dozens of redoubts to survive until the time to fight came again.

They gathered resources and prepared while sending smaller forces-like the army that had consistently attacked Thebes-to keep watch on their enemies, to probe their defenses, and to sap their resources.

Now the scattered tribes of Chaktaw regrouped with the ranks of the Behemoths replenished. Now the war machine mustered to be unleashed upon the invaders who had dared come to this world.

Fromm glanced at the two humans before speaking briefly, stoically, to the slave translator. As the Chaktaw savior turned and disappeared down the tunnel, the woman offered the simple translation.

"We march."

The armada split into three massive columns and pushed across the wilderness in a tempest of marching soldiers and thundering beasts and rolling wagons. The army climbed mountains and descended into valleys and flowed through forests as it drove east.

Trevor and Major Forest accompanied that army and while they remained under close guard as they rode atop one of the pack lizards, Fromm unbound their hands. Not so much a sign of trust but an acknowledgement that the two humans posed no threat to cause harm or escape.

They traveled without a break for the entire first day, stopping only for a few hours after night fell and resuming again before dawn. Once again, Chaktaw stamina impressed Trevor and he noted they did not require nearly as much sleep as humans.

However, on the second night they paused at the base of a rocky hill for a longer spell. Trevor got the sense that Fromm needed to reign in stragglers and regroup his army, most likely because their destination neared.

Whatever the reason, the Chaktaw constructed a series of temporary shelters out of wood posts and canvass tents that shared the same material as their camouflage ponchos. As a result, the tents ranged in color from black to rust to green, depending on whether they sat near one of the rocky ledges, in a grassy patch, or alongside one of the several streams crisscrossing the bivouac spot. Ten or more Chaktaw shared each shelter, possibly by squad.

Fromm joined Trevor and Nina who rested near a campfire. The woman slave serving as his translator sat just outside the ring of flickering light.

"Your army is impressive," Trevor said. "But even more impressive is your patience. You waited a long time to gather your strength. I don't know if I could be so patient."

"Yes, I have seen. You humans fight with great emotion. Sometimes too much. You make mistakes as a result."

Trevor prompted, "And we can get lulled into a false sense of security. All this time you’ve been launching attacks against both Thebes in the west and the Geryons in the east, haven’t you? And it was the same army. They’d hit Thebes, go east and hit the Geryons, then march on back to hit Thebes again. Like clockwork."

The translator struggled with ‘clockwork’ but managed to get the point across.

"It has been effective."

Their conversation halted as a sound drifted across the camp, starting lower than the chirping crickets but growing to their ears like a soft breeze carrying through the trees. At first, Trevor thought it a moan but then realized he heard a chant. A gentle, somber chant coming from a group of Fromm's soldiers gathered around their own campfire.

Trevor did not understand the Chaktaw language, but he understood the song well enough. The verses spoke of lost friends and family; of a people splintered and driven to the brink of extinction. But the chant did not merely bemoan the loss; it carried a tone of resolve. Less anger or vengeance, more determination.

In that song, Trevor felt the undercurrent of strength that gave the Chaktaw their endurance and stamina; that gave them the patience to wait for their day. And as he listened, he realized that Fromm and his people would win back their Earth.