Overhead, Nina stopped in the midst of mumbling and radioed, "I think I see something. Look, about a half-mile northwest of your position."
Following her directions, the vehicles came upon a long, wide trench cutting across a meadow and ending at a bluff of red rock. A mound the size of a yacht rested there covered in upended soil and frosty snow. Nina’s chopper hovered above.
Trevor radioed Nina: "Um, howabout doin’ a sweep around here. I know how much you’d hate it if we got ambushed by a couple of Deadheads or something."
Nina’s rebuttal crackled over the radio: "Gee whiz, that’d just ruin my day."
The Apache dutifully circled the area.
The ground team disembarked. Omar (a smoldering smoke jabbed in his mouth), Jerry Shepherd, and a mass of K9s exited the convoy of SUVs.
"Here we go," Trevor said as they walked alongside the trench. "According to that lizard-thing, this ship crashed last summer, thanks to an F-16."
Omar said nothing; he couldn't-not with such a huge grin on his face.
Shepherd grabbed Reverend Johnny’s shoulder.
"Hey, what exactly is it that critter said we’d find here?"
"Some sort of industrial equipment built, no doubt, for the vilest of purposes."
"Not exactly," Trevor cut in. "The lizards who owned this ship were transporting an industrial-strength matter transfiguration device."
"A what?"
Omar explained, "A machine that manipulates matter on the molecular level."
"One more time?"
Trevor tried: "A big piece of equipment that some aliens were using to build things they needed by changing other things. Like, oh, taking wood and changing it into metal. For example, um, you ever watch Star Trek?"
"No."
"Really? You never watched Star Trek?"
"Seemed a right bit too far fetched for me," Shepherd considered the new world, scratched his head, and admitted, "Guess that makes me the asshole."
Trevor went on, "Okay. All things are made up of molecules. Wouldn’t it be neat-o if you could take something that you didn’t need and re-arrange its molecules into something you did need? Like taking a cardboard box and transforming it into glass for a solar panel."
Omar said, "I am thinking that Mr. Stone is being overly simplicity in his words. But if it is here then we have found the important piece of an alien factory."
"And that’s both good and bad," Trevor told them. "Something like that working for us could help with supply problems."
Reverend Johnny boomed, "Praise the all mighty! Where is the bad?"
"The bad," Trevor said, "is that it means the new arrivals on our planet have the means to set up their own heavy industry. It means, gentlemen, that they’re here to stay."
– Jon pointed to the map on the desktop in the Command Center.
"We found a bunch of Redcoats here, but they weren’t a problem after a few bursts from the artillery."
Trevor said, "It's been nearly a week since we broke them up, and there are still some of them around?"
"Shows you how lucky we got. They're tough, especially once they establish a position. Problem is, however many are left they are running out of food and ammo."
A week since the battle for Wilkes-Barre, the true scope of the victory was becoming apparent. Not only had they managed an against-all-odds rout of a larger, better-armed opponent, but the Redcoat army had slaughtered hundreds of hostile animals.
Before the battle, Wilkes-Barre hosted a den of nightmares. Not any more. Despite their defeat, the Redcoats had thinned the monsters in the city while also leaving behind their artillery, stores of the explosive powder used in those guns, and many chargeable Redcoat muskets.
Trevor did not want to waste the opportunity. Jon formed small Grenadier-assisted recon teams who spotted for artillery strikes on clusters of dangerous animals.
Trevor and Nina piloted the one remaining fully functional Apache in alternating shifts around the clock while Jon’s teams moved through the Wyoming Valley. From a multi-legged turtle the size of a garbage truck with the head of a praying mantis to a demoralized squad of Redcoats hiding inside a Dairy Queen surviving on very old Blizzard mix, the Apache, the captured artillery, and the ground teams worked in unison to eliminate the threats.
Better still, they found a dozen survivors. While badly malnourished, they were the toughest of the tough, for they had lived in the lion's den for months.
Trevor asked Jon, "So what do you think? We don’t need to rush things. All the same…"
"All the same," Jon caught on, "you’d like to have control of this city."
"It’d be a big step, but I’m patient. We still don’t have a lot of manpower."
Jon answered, "Wow, well, we can take this slow but I think we can have a good chunk of center city and the northern suburbs cleared out in a week."
"What about the West Side?" Trevor meant the collection of boroughs and townships lining Route 11 on the west bank of the Susquehanna.
"That’s going easy. There doesn’t seem to be a lot over there. Must not have been a big enough population to feed all the predators or something."
Trevor solemnly reminded, "Could be that there weren’t a lot of people over there when this started. A lot of them got…got vaporized."
Brewer remembered that Ashley had lived on the West Side. He said nothing.
Trevor forced himself into a lighter mood. "In any case, damn good job. Let’s keep it up. We take Wilkes-Barre before the snow really starts and we’ll be in good shape for the long haul. Got to be a lot of shit in the stores and stuff down there. Don’t forget the police station."
"The armory," Jon referred to the Pennsylvania National Guard’s 109 ^ th Field Artillery armory. It held big guns, fuel supplies, uniforms, medical kits, self-propelled artillery, Humvees, Bradley Fighting Vehicles, and even a few of the advanced Strykers.
"Can we take it?"
"I’m clearing out around it first. Once I know we’re not going to be in the middle of some sort of ambush we’ll move in." Jon cleared his throat and changed the subject: "So, everything is…um… set for tonight. One of Stonewall's guys ran projectors before all this."
"Thanks for, you know, taking care of that. I appreciate it and all. We've been alternating shifts in the Apache all week and haven't had time to, well, see each other, you know."
"Geez, you’d think you were launching a major offensive," Jon joked.
Trevor considered and answered, "You know, I think I am."
– Trevor’s Humvee with a Suburban trailing behind as escort pulled in the parking lot that a week ago had served as the assembly area for the Redcoat army. Parked in that lot sat the four air ships the vanquished aliens left behind.
Trevor spied Omar walking alongside one of the ships as the long shadows of early evening stretched across the pavement. Grenadiers and human sentries stood watch.
"Omar, baby! Whachya got for me?" Trevor beamed.
"Oh, it is so good to be seeing you, Mr. Trevor, Sir!" Omar replied with his sarcasm and forced accent. "I much prefer the company of you and our furry friends to that of my wife and family. Please be sure to be telling my children hello and how are you for me tonight."
Between the power problems, the recovered matter transformation equipment, and the Redcoats’ goodies, Omar had little time for sleep or family. However, one of the Wilkes-Barre survivors had been a physics teacher with a high-tech head on his shoulders. Trevor hoped that, after he regained his strength, the man could help Omar.
Trevor approached the air ship. The landing gear that sprouted from the four corner pods held the main body a few feet above the ground. Both sides of the passenger module had doors with retractable entry ramps. Trevor ascended the starboard ramp and found a series of buttons next to the door. He pushed the largest one and the door slid open revealing a dark compartment.