Nina lifted herself from the cart and said, "Looks clear but we got to move."
Trevor followed her and then turned to offer a hand to their passenger. The Chaktaw refused and, after struggling for words, said, "I no play game."
"No game," Trevor grabbed the gray coveralls the prisoner wore and hauled him up.
Apparently tired of what it perceived to be a ruse, the Chaktaw reacted with surprising agility for a starved and overworked prisoner. He shoved a knee into Trevor’s belly then threw a chop to the back of his neck. Stone fell to the concrete floor.
Major Forest placed a pistol directly to the Chaktaw's face.
"Don’t!"
Trevor slowly-with a grunt through clenched teeth-stood. He spoke between pangs of pain, "You won’t believe this, but I’m not your enemy any more. I want to help you. But first we have to get out of here. Do you understand?"
The Chaktaw did not understand. Again, either Trevor spoke too quickly for him to translate or-most likely-he did not believe. Yet what Trevor could not manage with words, Director Snowe managed with bullets.
Rifle fire snapped into the room. A bullet passed between Trevor and the Chaktaw. Snowe and his ‘friends’ moved into the room intending to make it a killing ground.
Nina shot her pistol at the attackers while urging "in the elevator!"
Trevor punched the obvious 'call' button and, fortunately, the doors immediately opened. With Nina providing cover fire, the three entered the car and managed to close the doors. Snowe's frustrated voice eked into the elevator shaft as he told his men to, "get to the roof!"
Meanwhile, the elevator ascended to the squeal of pulleys and rumbles of wheels, moving at a pace that felt unbearably slow. When the doors finally opened again, Trevor felt certain Director Snowe and his execution squad would be waiting.
Instead of guns, flickering stars and a crescent moon greeted the three escapees atop the lone flat spot on the domed building. A solitary Skipper occupied one of three landing pads and a crisp breeze swept across the roof.
"Come on, get onboard," Nina led them to the waiting craft.
"No guards?" Trevor voiced his surprise aloud.
"It's not like the whole army is after us," Nina answered. "I don’t think he was expecting you to make a break for it, anyway."
The Chaktaw dug its feet in and refused to move. Trevor grabbed his arm and said, "I know you don't trust me, but we were almost shot downstairs."
"This is a game," the enemy replied. "You pretend friend, you want me to show you Fromm place. Rather die here."
"Look, you don't have to show me anything. But if you stay here, we will both die here. Get onboard and we'll figure the rest out later."
He did not give the Chaktaw a chance to respond, yanking him to the Skipper. When inside, Trevor closed the ramp and buckled both himself and his reluctant passenger into seats.
The engines spooled to life and the booster rockets shot the craft into the sky, pinning everyone onboard to their seats. As the roar of the rockets faded, Trevor heard another noise; a steady plink-plink-plink against the fuselage. After a moment, he recognized the sound of bullets hitting the ship. Snowe had made it to the roof, but not quite in time.
As the rotors spun to life and the nose of the craft dipped as it began a more conventional and controlled flight path, Nina said, "We don't have much fuel. Maybe an hour flying time. Which way do you want me to go?"
"Any signs of pursuit?"
She consulted the onboard radar and answered, "No, nothing. If they come after us, it might not be for a while."
Trevor remembered what he had done after executing The Committee and told her, "Of course not. Snowe will be too busy locking down communications and giving the officers a choice to follow him or face a firing squad."
Nina repeated her question, "Which way do you want me to fly?"
"North," he answered. "We're going north."
"Trevor, listen, I don't know what you think you can work out with the Chaktaw but-"
"Just shut your mouth and fly the ship. I'll tell you when you can speak again."
The skipper sped across the industrial sector bathed in moonlight and pushing through streams of smoke. After a moment, they cleared the crumbling walls of the northern perimeter.
Trevor asked the other passenger, "How much of my language do you understand?"
The Chaktaw answered, "I understand good."
"We have some talking to do."
"No talking. Fromm will come for you and your city. He will kill you all."
Trevor sighed and placed his head into his hands. Yes, this Chaktaw was probably right, particularly if Director Snowe did not get a handle on things quickly. Would the officer corps follow yet another coup? If not, that could mean civil war and that would seal the destruction of Thebes, the city he had brought back to life.
Thousands of human beings-members of his species-would die, including doppelgangers of people he knew, like Jon Brewer and Ashley Trump. Did he care? They were, after all, invaders to this Earth, yet they were his kin even if separated by a universe.
He glanced up and saw the Chaktaw's eyes glaring at him with a mixture of contempt and wonder. In those eyes he saw an even greater bond than that shared by a species. He saw a survivor from a civilization torn asunder.
At home, Trevor had watched his Earth invaded, families murdered, children enslaved, and all manner of horrors unleashed on an unsuspecting populace for reasons yet unknown. Here, the Chaktaw suffered that fate. If he felt sympathy for humanity on this world, then how could he justify the slaughter of Hivvans, Red Hands, and Redcoats at home?
Trevor Stone carried many burdens in his post-Armageddon life. Now he found a new addition to that load, the burden of knowledge.
How often he tried to cajole the Old Man into revealing secrets. How often he stood on the verge of understanding only to find he knew nothing.
Today revealed more truth than he desired. What had Major Forest told him? There were eight dimensions? Could these Earths host eight different civilizations? What of the monsters?
Or maybe the wolves are just hungry. Yes Reverend. What of those wolves? What of the pigeons and white tail deer around and outside Thebes?
On his Earth, how many ChewCows and Rat-Things prowled about?
One man’s animal is another man’s invading monster.
"We kill you all," the Chaktaw threatened again.
Yes, Fromm will destroy humanity here, if he can. The way I must destroy the invaders on my world. War is the way of it. The strong survive.
Were there eight Trevor Stones across eight parallel universes, seven leading armies of invaders, one fighting for survival?
What if I can help the Chaktaw, get home, and maybe save the people of Thebes?
The Skipper rumbled and wavered, flying over a plain of black wilderness.
Trevor spoke to the Chaktaw, "What is your name?"
He considered Trevor's question, perhaps wondering what potential harm revealing his name might cause. In the end he decided in favor of answering.
"Jaff."
"Okay, Jaff, here’s the deal…"
Trevor stopped as he realized he spoke too fast and too informal. He rephrased, "Jaff. I meet Fromm. I help Fromm. I have a gift for Fromm."
The Chaktaw smiled and grunted in what had to be his version of a chuckle.
"A gift? Yes. I show you our base. I trust you. Yes."
Sarcasm, it seemed, leapt universes.
The Chaktaw added a word Trevor did not understand. Something like cas-witt or cash-itt. No doubt the word translated into something unflattering.
Trevor recalled his meeting with the Fromm from his home universe during the Battle of Five Armies. He pulled a word-a Chaktaw word-from his memory and said, "You tell Fromm to meet me and I help him win war. Tell him I offer swashloo."