My War of the Worlds Sequel- WoTW: Aftermath.

[Commandingtripod]

Nicely done Nerfy.

Keep it coming! ;D ;D

[richardburton]

You have been busy over the weekend, mate! It's taken me all morning to catch up!

Fantastic stuff - great twists and turns in the plot and the revelation of the base was handled brilliantly. Well done!

[Poyks]

Wow, that's awesome! Again very inspired writing!

[wotwfan48]

I like it more than very much, very good, again lot of action,
and Cavendish!! very good idea, very humain lol. you have talent.
Chantale.

[EvilNerfherder]

THE WAR OF THE WORLDS: AFTERMATH.


37. Treachery.




All I could do was gape at the beaming Cavendish disbelievingly for a moment.
I had seen that he was capable of much deviousness and had seemed, of late at least, only to have his own interests at heart, despite his grand protestations that what he did was for the good of England. This new act was too much to take.
Anger surged up within me like a hot river of bitter bile.
‘You dog!’ I spat. ‘You have betrayed your fellow man and for what?’
I moved toward Cavendish fists raised and hot faced but Churchill leaped forward and held me back. I struggled against the unyielding Lieutenant’s hold on me for a moment but eventually sagged and consoled myself with staring white hot daggers at the man, the many Martian weapons pointed at my head deciding the matter.
‘Why?’ was all I could manage to utter next.
‘You would not understand, Smith,’ the knight replied from within the safety of his newly recruited bodyguard. ‘There are bigger things afoot here than anyone knows. Even I am just a pawn in a greater game, albeit a more well placed one.’
‘You fool!’ Churchill growled. ‘Do you really imagine that your new friends will think more highly off you because you have the ear of the Government? I’ll wager that all the Martians see in you is a bigger meal!’
Cavendish’s grin fell at this and his plump cheeks reddened more than was normal.
‘I will not waste time bandying words with a mere Lieutenant,’ he said with barely concealed rage. He turned to me and struggled to affect a reasonable tone.
‘Smith, you must see! You are a reasonable man! This is the best solution for us all. We must make peace with the Martians and I am the man to initiate such a historic peace. The British Empire will prosper as a result and we will be the survivors when the next invasion begins. Make no mistake, the Martians will return and in greater numbers. I can help you, join me in this effort I undertake for the good of our world ’
‘I will not be a pet of those things,’ I answered as levelly as I could, staring straight into his beady eyes. ‘I would rather die than assist in this monstrous plan.’
Cavendish eyed me for a moment as if waiting for me to change my mind.
‘You may come to regret those words,’ he said, shaking his head sadly, and stalked away down a corridor flanked by two of the Martians. One of the creatures left facing us motioned for our unhappy group to return to the cell. Angry, but with no choice in the matter, we went back in.

So, our imprisonment continued but for how long I cannot say.
Churchill seemed to think we were in the cell for only two days, for me it felt no less than a week.
The feeding of the pink gruel continued but the Martians came to dispense it in force and emphatically waving weapons at us.
More men were taken away until our group in this cell numbered only ten.
Sometimes we shuddered as we heard the desperate struggles of those being removed as they fought for their lives, in vain I think, outside.
We did not see Cavendish again.
I tried to imagine how someone could do what this man had done, betrayed his own kind so that he could prosper. I was not fool enough to imagine that some humans were not capable of the most heinous acts. I remember the screaming headlines that spoke of the carnage that had been acted out by he who those same tabloids had dubbed ‘Jack the Ripper’. I knew that many horrendous acts of barbarism by man against fellow man had been perpetrated, over the course of our races history, in the name of greed or religion. Or, just as often I was painfully aware, both. Still I could not fathom the justification of the handing of all of humanity on a platter to a race of monsters for any reason. Did he imagine that he would become a Prince among men at the behest of those awful, heartless beings from so far away? King of the World, perhaps? Did he dream of sitting on some gilded throne, casually ordering the slavery or deaths of millions? What kind of Brave New World was this?
In the quiet of what I took to be night, the time when all others in the cell were sleeping fitfully, I soundlessly sobbed for all of mankind.

Sounds of a scuffle outside the cell awoke me from a restless dozing. At first, I thought it was just the sound of the Martians gathering outside and readying themselves to bring us our dreary rations. Then there was the unmistakable sound of gunshots, a muted explosion, and a bloodcurdling shriek, like that of a wounded animal. A, very much human, cheer followed this awful sound.
The door alarm buzzed.
The other men in the cell and I sat up. Now what was happening?
The door opened to reveal a familiar face.
‘Hullo, mates!’ the Sergeant said brightly, grinning from ear to ear.

[Commandingtripod]

Ah the Sargeant saves the day once again. ;D
Nicely done.

Can't wait to read more.

[Poyks]

Another unpredictable turn I feel, but then again that's what makes this story so good!! The emotional elements are as strong as ever. Fantastic!

[Anim8tr]

I was truely hoping we'd see the Sergeant again! Well played!

As for Cavendish, is he truely a traitor? A victim of "The Egg"? Or both?

[Luperis]

Great stuff, as always!
Keep up the good work, Nerf.

[richardburton]

Great stuff, Nerfy! A thrilling return of the good sergeant!

What kind of Brave New World is this? - love that little touch!

[wotwfan48]

I liked all of it, in the end it is nice to see that the sergeant, was able to come to help. Very good, still thrilling. Chantale

[Commandingtripod]

Would you include a smaller Martian in the mix Nerfy?
A 'child' Martian?

Or maybe a double headed Martian?
Before the child buds off?

[EvilNerfherder]

I hadn't considered that for this story, CT.
But then, I will be doing a re-write and expansion of the whole thing when I have finished this draft, so who knows.
Nice idea.

[Commandingtripod]

Thanks.

[EvilNerfherder]

I'll be especially interested to hear what people think about this chapter and the ones I plan to follow it. I'm putting the Sergeant's tale into the story in the next few chapters and I'd like to know how everyone thinks it fits into the story as a whole and with the general flow of it.
Ta.


THE WAR OF THE WORLDS: AFTERMATH.


38. The Sergeant’s Tale (i)



In our predicament, I had, I am sad to say, completely forgotten about my friend the Sergeant and his brave men.
If I had, in my much-strained state, found the time to ponder his whereabouts, I should have thought him lost in the battle outside the Cylinder with so many of his comrades. Or perhaps, I might have, with a glimmer of hope, considered him a prisoner somewhere else in this monstrous new base that we were currently captive within. Either way, the outlook for him would not, I am sure I would have imagined, been good. As bad as ours seemed to be, in fact.
I did not find out what had happened to my friend since the battle until this latest meeting until later. The Sergeant visited me at my home for what he called a ‘jolly reunion of old chums’. Wells came, at my invitation, to this meeting as well, he could not resist meeting the man he had written of in his own work. The Sergeant and my literary friend were, to my surprise I admit, as old friends from the off.
We three sat by the fire, after a marvellous dinner prepared by my wife, sipping champagne, of course, and toasting old comrades.
It is then that I asked the Sergeant about events before he came to free us.
I made copious notes as he recounted his tale, as I knew I was to begin this work my esteemed reader now holds and I felt that his story may make an interesting addition to it. Wells sat quietly as the Sergeant spoke, but his eyes twinkled and his face bore a faint smile throughout, as if in appreciation of a story well told.
I feel that now is, at this point of my work, as good a place as any to recount the Sergeant’s adventures in his own words.

‘Well, my friends.’ The soldier said settling back into his leather armchair and sucking on a fat cigar with relish. ‘Where to start? I can’t say I really had much in the way of schoolin’ but I guess Smith at least knows I can tell a yarn and that is what I’ll have to do.’
‘Please,’ I prompted. ‘Just tell us what happened, no more, no less.’
‘Well then, this is how it was.’

'We went out of the sub ready to fight and full of get up and go. My boys were straining at the leash to get back at the Martians and I didn’t intend to hold ‘em back, I can tell you.
We hadn’t gotten far when all merry hell broke loose. The buggers were everywhere and we saw that they had engaged our comrades near the cylinder.
Never in battle have I seen so much chaos and I doubt I will see it’s like again in my lifetime. It wasn’t helped, I know, by our being underwater and those blessed suits we were forced to wear out there. It was like being in an oven after a little effort and breathing was tough. My boys bore it like the troopers they were, though, and I decided we should make a run for it around the side of the scuffle. If you remember, our mission was to blow the cylinder to blazes and we didn’t intend to be cut down before we could do it.
So, off we went as fast as we could, watching out for Martians all the way.
It’s funny, men were dyin’ out there but one thing sticks in my mind. You know Glenn, quite the wag he is. Well, he started humming ‘My old man, said follow the van’.
I thought, for a bit anyway, it was quite the song for the occasion and some of the boys started to whistle or sing along with it. I’m sure if Wayne had his accordion with him we could have led the Martians in a right merry dance. Soldier’s humour can be rough, as I am sure you know, but the life can be much rougher and we find that the fun helps keep some of the demons away, if you get my meaning.
Anyway, I thought better of it and told them best be quiet, as we didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves if the Martians could listen in on us. Besides, even to us, it didn’t seem right singin’ what with what was goin’ on out there and all.
We went around behind some rocks and watched the battle for a while. One or two of the men wanted to take pot-shots at the enemy, to help our mates out, but I told them to hold fire in case we got spotted.
Then I heard the order to withdraw on my radio and saw the men out on the battlefield try to get back to the Nautilus. The poor blighters couldn’t go anywhere as, by this time, the creatures were all around them. But they fought bravely to man, to that I can testify.
I saw the Martians round the survivors up like sheep and start to move them away.
Jameson was all for rushing out there and trying to rescue them for all the good it would do and he made no bones about it. Even though he knew, deep down, that the sensible thing to do was just what we were doing. We had to get to the cylinder and do our job. To try and help our comrades would have been nothing less than suicide and every man with me knew that. But a soldier’s instincts are strong, my friends. We never leave a man behind unless there is no other choice. In this case there was none and we could do no more than sit and grit our teeth.
Then, just as we were about to move off to see what could be done, we were amazed to see the Nautilus start to up and move. She sat there in the water for a bit, then moved quicker and quicker and slammed- Bam!- right into the cylinder. We ducked down behind our rocks as she blew to smithereens. We didn’t know what to think. What was goin’ on?
When things had calmed down a bit, we looked up and saw that the cylinder had a huge hole in it and we cheered and clapped each other on the backs. It looked like we wouldn’t need to do our work after all.
Then Glenn said ‘’Sarge?’’
I looked around and saw a grim look on his face. He pointed slowly behind us.
One of the remote walkers, as that cur Cavendish called them, was just stood there behind us. Just lookin’ at us with those strange metal eyes they have.
I figured then that we were sunk.'

[Poyks]

Well, I always like a twist in the chronology. Taking on a totally fresh point of view not only gives strength to an important character, it holds back previous elements for later and gives the reader anticipation and something to look forward to. I've read a lot of Pratchett and he does that quite a lot so I know it works.
I can see you were taking the bull by the horns and trying a new angle, and even though it breaks the timeline, it's fresh to the story and it will work! I'd be tempted to have the lead up to this chapter as a kind of sub-intro, and start the chapter with the Sergeant's account. Just an idea for clear separation.

PS liking the intro of a certain musical character!

[EvilNerfherder]

Thanks, Brendan, as always.
I've only included (mostly) events we already know about in this chapter as I want to use the next chapter or two to recount what we don't (and wouldn't if I stuck purely to the Narrator's POV through the whole thing), so this is an intro of sorts to the Sergeant's story, I guess. But I do see what you mean about separation and I'll have a think about that.
As long as having this little sub-story in there for a few chapters at this point doesn't detract from the thing as a whole and confuse people, I'll be happy. I figured that people might like to hear what the Sergeant had been up to before he turns up again in the main story, basically.

[Commandingtripod]

It's good Nerfy.

It works just as well as having the Narrator recall his brothers experiences.
Keep it up. ;D

[Luperis]

Nice. the change in perspective is good - and it looks like it will work well. It is definately interesting to have the Sergeant telling us his story.
Well done, Nerfy.

[EvilNerfherder]

THE WAR OF THE WORLDS: AFTERMATH.


39. The Sergeant’s Tale (ii)



My friend stopped telling his story for a moment. For effect, I have no doubt. As I have intimated before, the Sergeant was the sort who never tired of telling of his exploits, much, I found, to the delight of any audience he spoke before. He grinned at my obvious impatience to hear what happened next. Wells shifted a little in his chair but said nothing.
The soldier waved his empty glass at me and I took the hint, pouring him more champagne. He swallowed some of the effervescent, pale yellow liquid and smacked his lips with relish. Then, eyes bright, he took a puff of his cigar and continued on with his story.

‘Well now, I’m sure you wonder how we got out of that pretty pickle. I can say it was by sheer luck and I don’t mind admitting that. Sometimes even the best soldier can be scuppered by a ‘appenin’ and it was all I could do but stare at the machine, for a moment, as it carried on eyeing us up.
I was surprised, you can bet, when Dawson walked out from behind a rock just past the thing. Where he had been, I don’t know, as I thought he was with us, but he stopped short and backed off a bit. The thing didn’t know he was there but just stared some more at us.
I managed to catch Dawson’s eye and tried to give him the idea he was to be ready. The soldier’s mind is always at work, friends, and I hoped that Dawson would catch my drift. I saw him begin to creep towards the thing as quiet as a mouse would. I stepped forward a bit with my hands raised and motioned for the others with me to do the same. The thing jumped back a bit on those skinny legs they ‘ave and I saw its weapon pop out from its head. We stopped dead and it started to move forward. Dawson took his chance and jumped on it. There was a struggle, the thing was thrashing about with my mate Dawson clinging on for dear life. The machine let off a shot, then another. The first shot narrowly missed Dawson, the other hit a rock, blowing it to tiny pieces. Some pieces rattled off the helmet of my suit.
We jumped forward as one, I got my weapon and started beating the thing with the butt and the others copied me. We barely dented it.
Glenn grabbed a leg and pulled with all his might. The thing started to topple, all unbalanced already with the weight on its back. Dawson jumped clear before the thing hit the ground and we set to it, kicking and beating it with our weapons.
Then, I spied a sort of door in the back of its head and I started to beat at it with my gun. It wasn’t easy, what with the thing wrigglin’ around and all.
The panel flew off after a bit of work and my weapon butt went straight into the thing’s head. Well, here was another surprise!
Something like blood and brain flew out of the head and the thing stopped wrigglin’ just like that!
‘’What the-?’’ Glenn said.
‘’It doesn’t matter now,’’ I told him. ‘’The thing is dead. We must be off, lads, before some of it’s mates come lookin’ for it.’’
We went off into the rocks as quickly as we could.

We found what looked like a quiet spot and took stock. Our mission couldn’t be carried out and our way home was in a million pieces all over the seabed. So, what to do?
Then a thought occurred to me. The Martians had prisoners. Lots of our mates that they were taking away. But where were they taking them to?
‘’Here’s a plan. Boys,’’ I said. ‘’What say you for a spot of reconnaissance?’’
‘’What do you mean, Sarge?’’ Glenn asked.
‘’Let’s follow the blighters and see where they are taking our mates. Their Cylinder is a mess so I don’t think they’ll be going there. So I say we find out if we can lend our pals a helpin’ hand, eh?’’
The boys all agreed in a shot so it was settled. We moved off.
It didn’t take long before we saw the last stragglers ahead of us. We rounded another set of rocks and watched as the Martians pushed the soldier and sailor prisoners onwards. We were going away from the Cylinder now and we wondered just what was goin’ on. We soon found out, all right!
We hung back a bit as we saw the massive machine the Martians had built as their new base. We watched the prisoners being herded into the elevatin’ tube and get transported up into the belly of that horrible new thing. It was an uncanny sight, it looked like the men were floatin’ up into the air, or should I say water, from where we crouched.
The base, as you know, looked like an oversized Handlin’ Machine, as the boffins call ‘em. After all the men had been taken aboard, we saw that the thing began movin’! Slowly, it went, its legs goin’ up and down and carryin’ the thing forward like some giant, sluggish spider. I saw that there were little machines darting around it like crows flyin’ around a dead animal. I didn’t know if they had Martians in ‘em or not but they moved at a fair clip and weaved about between the big things legs. It was a mesmerisin’ sight.
The main body of the machine seemed to hardly move at all, so I suppose it had some sort of devices to keep it steady. Maybe it worked a bit like the suspension on a motor car, but that sort of thing leaves me cold, as a rule so I didn’t take much notice of how it could have worked. I expect Cavendish’s boffins would have had a field day. It would have been like Christmas for them!
The thing started to pick up speed a little and it was starting to get out of sight. It was time for us to do something! We needed a plan.’’