Anthony DeCosmo - Disintegration

A pair of specks floated in from the horizon, flying toward the Redcoats’ assembly area.

Trevor and company hid inside the brewery and watched through broken windows.

At first glance, they resembled flying bricks hovering in the air without wings or rotors or aerodynamics at all. Closer observation revealed a triangular nose cone with rounded edges and a thin, wide window pointing forward. Next came a rectangular body that probably served as a passenger or payload compartment. At each corner sat a pod sporting flat, round landing gear. A pair of baffles sprouted from the rear, but they did not emit any smoke or exhaust.

The crafts wore red color with small white pin stripes.

One of the things descended vertically into the alien camp.

"How does something like that fly? No wings, nothin’," Shep wondered.

The second ship headed west emitting a steady hum as it flew.

It mesmerized Trevor. The design defied the rules of flight yet it moved effortlessly: as graceful as an eagle to Trevor's eye.

The ship passed over the Cross Valley Expressway, banked, then stopped in mid air where it held steady for a minute before descending, vertically, out of sight.

Trevor said, "It’s landing by the river. Let's go."

– Eschewing their hover bikes and Humvees, the group proceeded to the river on foot and found a hiding spot along the bank among dead bushes and a cluster of trees.

The flying machine parked on the riverbank amidst mud and scattered snowflakes. Two Redcoats stood watch while two more removed their helmets and worked near one of the ship's landing pods.

Trevor, through binoculars, examined the aliens: big round black eyes, thin noses, and small mouths, ironically resembling the extraterrestrials found in tabloids in the days when aliens had yet to make the cover of The New York Times.

One alien extended a large hose from the ship toward the river and waited while the second operated a hand held device in a manner that suggested testing the water.

Trevor pondered the sight. "Now this is interesting."

"What do you want me to do?" Nina craved orders.

Trevor realized how close she stood. He could see tiny puffs of white from the cold of her breath…from between her lips.

"Nothing, yet. For now, we watch."

Apparently unsatisfied, the alien doing the testing directed the other to retract the hose. Moments later, they flew away.

– It took Trevor more than half an hour to return to the estate via hoverbike due to a diving Devilbat trying to snag him as a snack. Moments after arriving home, K9s raised the alarm: one of the alien ships appeared over the eastern edge of the lake. It landed in the parking lot of a marina filled with decaying boats.

Trevor led three K9s, Danny Washburn, and Omar Nehru to a good spying point on a hillside overlooking the marina.

Yet again, the aliens extended a hose from a landing pod but this time actually sucked water from the lake. After a half-hour of siphoning, the craft lifted off, doing so without any visible rockets and flew away in the direction from whence it came.

Omar Nehru had no doubts about what they had witnessed. "Oh, my goodness gracious, excited this is making me."

Washburn joked, "I think Hajji here has a hard-on over this."

"Thank you so kindly for sharing your wits, but it would be fair to say that I am excited, yes. I believe we just watched a hydrogen-powered vehicle."

"Hydrogen powered?" Trevor repeated.

Omar beamed. "I would be imagining that water vapor is the only byproduct. That is why they went to the river as you were telling me and then flew all the way here."

Trevor-suddenly agitated-pressed, "You can’t be sure of that."

"No, I am not sure but it is what I am thinking."

Washburn jumped in, "What? Slow down. What are you guys talking about?"

Omar answered, "Perhaps Mr. Washburn is one who is familiar with the term ‘H2O’? That is being water and the ‘h’ is for hydrogen."

"So what does that mean to us?"

Trevor sighed. "It means we’re sitting on one big fuel dump."

– Trevor stood in the Command Center with Jon, Stonewall, and Nina discussing what to do next as evening descended over what had turned into a worrisome day. Shepherd remained on the outskirts of Wilkes-Barre with a surveillance team, watching the Redcoats.

Jon dropped a pile of digital photographs on the desktop. "So far we count five of those ships at the assembly area. I get the feeling they may be low on fuel or something."

Nina asked, "Why do you say that?"

"Because I’d have them in the air all the time. Anyway, two more formations arrived this afternoon. We put their number now at about four hundred. They’ve set up check points on all approaches to their position."

Stonewall said, "These gentlemen like to do things en mass. We have not observed any skirmish parties or pickets. They simply have chosen their hard points and set up camp."

"Why shouldn’t they?" Nina thought out loud. "I’m just saying, these guys pack a punch with their rifles."

"Then there are the big guns," Jon led.

Trevor rummaged through the photos. The ‘big guns’ included four large, self-propelled concave objects resembling upside-down silver bowls with indents on top. Artillery, no doubt.

Two "big guns" of a different design rode on a hovering, flat vehicle. The weapons sported long, slim barrels surrounded by smaller ports and gears with a seat at one end.

Jon pointed to a photo of one of these and explained, "This is their version of an anti-aircraft gun. Probably what hit Nina and let me tell you," he glanced at the blond, "you’re lucky your chopper wasn’t vaporized. Trev, remember that big dragonfly thing that scooped up the Troll in Plymouth? It showed up along the riverbank a good three-quarters mile away from the Redcoats’ base. Well one of these guns sent out like a volley of energy balls or something. Broke that thing into a zillion pieces. Just…wow."

Nina said what they all realized: "So much for using choppers."

Stonewall added, "Pity. Those marvelous machines haven’t contributed much as of yet."

Jon flashed a photo of a large hovering cylinder vehicle. "I'm thinking these are fuel tankers of some kind. Probably carrying water for the air ships and the soldiers."

Stonewall said, "One must wonder, what plans they are brewing."

Jon tried to answer that question: "If we're right that they’re coming to the lake, then I think they’ll hunker down overnight then at first light tomorrow march straight here."

Nina added, "Their ships have been scouting the expressway."

"So we need to fight them," Trevor felt a headache coming fast and hard.

Stonewall injected some reality: "I enjoy a romantic struggle against insurmountable odds as much as the next poet. Nevertheless, the idea of outright suicide is quite distasteful. We are facing an armada of several hundred well-armed professional soldiers supported by aircraft and artillery. If we arm every living soul in this camp how many would we muster?"

Trevor sighed and went through a mental calculation: "Throw out kids, injured and sick…strip everyone from the farms…throw in the new arrivals…we would probably have about forty to fifty good fighters."

"Ahhh," Stonewall made his point. "Ten to one odds? My, the poets would run out of adjectives! How many words are there in the thesaurus next to ‘futile?’"

Jon said, "That’s not helping."

"Do not mistake my candor for reluctance. I shall lead another Pickett’s charge if so ordered. Yet I believe we must earnestly discuss the truth of the matter."

Stonewall and Jon began to ‘discuss’ the matter in sharp words.

Trevor ignored them and studied the pictures of the infantry formations, the artillery, the air ships, and the alien General wearing a gold cape and fancy emblems.