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.
He closed his eyes for a moment and envisioned Chaktaw infantry pouring through the streets of Thebes, their terrifying artillery shells blasting buildings, their Behemoths-Jaw-Wolves-chasing down and tearing apart not only foot soldiers but armored vehicles, too.
A gruesome vision. And while he understood Fromm’s people had a right to their Earth, he could not help but feel pity for his fellow humans.
He looked over at Major Forest as she sat silently in the glow of the campfire while the Chaktaw chant echoed about the camp. Her blond hair seemed nearly black with grit and grime, her distinctive twin ponytails masses of tangles now. The woman appeared completely exhausted, both physically and mentally.
"Fromm," Trevor spoke quietly so his voice would not disrupt the flow of the chant. "Will you keep your promise? Will you offer Thebes a chance to leave through the runes?"
"If all you have told me is true, then when we turn our armies on the human cancer upon my planet, I will offer them passage through those runes. I will not offer twice. Should they not accept I will destroy them without mercy."
Just a week ago, Trevor Stone was the Emperor of Thebes fighting to reclaim a planet he thought belonged to mankind. He showed no mercy, offered no quarter. Then came the truth. Suddenly he was one of the invaders, and they were not faceless devils.
To his side, Nina sat quietly making eye contact with no one, the type of diminutive behavior he would have expected from the Nina Forest back home during those months before they fell in love. A quiet, shy woman despite her talents for battle.
In this case, however, Major Forest had good reason to try and pass unnoticed. While Fromm needed Trevor and seemed to believe his story of alternate worlds and deceptions, Forest could claim no such excuse, no such ignorance. She was an original member of an invading army and remained alive only as a result of Fromm's benevolence.
Trevor brought her into the conversation nonetheless.
"You fought in a big battle, seven different armies, right?"
She answered with a nod.
"What armies? What races were there?"
At first she did not understand the question, or maybe she hoped he would just let it drop. Yet Fromm and Trevor both sat and waited for an answer.
"Well, I mean, there were the Duass and the Geryons and ourselves and the Chaktaw. I think, wait, yeah, the Centaurians were there and the Witiko," she looked skyward as if maybe the answer flickered up there with the stars. "Oh, yeah, and a bunch of Malebranches."
While the slave translated for Fromm, Trevor tried to translate the races into names he knew. Of course the Duass equated to the Platypuses and he knew the Geryons. He also knew that Malebranches were what he thought of as Mutants, one of the long list of creatures from the realm of Voggoth. That left two he did not recognized.
"Centaurians? Witiko?"
Fromm spoke before the Major could answer. "I remember we were without our Behemoths and on the run. We inflicted great casualties upon our enemies before withdrawing."
"Who are the Centaurians and the Witiko?"
Fromm spoke to his translator who relayed, "The Centaurians are disciplined but arrogant and easily confused, easily tricked. They have powerful weapons and aircraft, but they do not use their aircraft for fighting, only to watch. This is but one of their many weaknesses. Before we knew their name we called them the ‘Black Eyes’ for their eyes are big and black underneath their helmets."
"Red uniforms with helmets? Guns that become more powerful as they charge?"
Fromm answered, "Gold armor, slightly taller than you. Their aircraft use water for fuel."
"Okay, so their colors are different but we called them Redcoats on our Earth. I have to remember even the invading armies are from different universes. Those hitting my Earth are from my universe; those attacking here are of this, well, reality or dimension or whatever. Point is, they are a lot alike, but still with some differences. Red armor invading my earth, gold invading yours. Still, armor and air ships. The civilizations must all be about the same level. That was probably planned, too. Anyway, who are the Witiko?"
For the first time during the conversation, Fromm looked directly at Major Forest who, for her part, looked to him as well. Trevor judged that by the way they glanced at one another-eyes a little wide, mouths a little open-the two shared an understanding of these Witiko that Trevor lacked.
"Well, who are they?"
"They are dangerous," Nina said. "They've got air power and solid infantry, and they can make animals fight for them. But more than that, they're clever. Trevor-my Trevor, that is-couldn't stand them and didn't trust them, even when we were supposed to be working together."
Fromm spoke through his translator, "They are little larger than you or I but their strength is not physical; they are sophisticated and cunning. Be weary of them."
Trevor said, "Okay then, that answers the question of who was at the big dance," he stopped and corrected for the sake of the translation. "I mean, fight. The only ones not there were the Hivvans and the Red Hands. That would make eight and we’ve got ourselves a complete set."
"We have not faced the Hivvans much here," Fromm explained. "But I know they are strong in parts of the world. Their time will come. I do not know the other name."
Trevor turned to Nina who also shrugged at the name 'Red Hands' so he described, "Kind of primitive. They paint themselves red, usually a hand. Fight with bows and pointed sticks."
Major Forest said, "Sounds like the Feranites. The Order of Feran."
Fromm nodded as he listened to the translation of Nina's answer. Trevor went on, "So there you have it. Eight different Earths, eight different races. Well, actually, nine. So we're short an Earth. The only question is…where does Voggoth fit in?"
Fromm recognized that name. His face twisted.
"Voggoth and the nightmares that come from his place. Where ever that may be, it is no doubt dark and lifeless."
Trevor considered Fromm’s observation. He also wondered about creatures like the Mutants and Wraiths and Roachbots. They were organized, they had technologies, yet he knew from the research done at Red Rock that those creatures-and many more-did not come from the same tree of life as the eight races on the eight Earths.