By Any Other Name

By Wesa

Series: Crossover War of the Worlds/ The People

Rating: PG

Category: Angst

Disclaimers: War of the Worlds characters belong to Paramount and Strangis & Strangis. The concept of The People belonged to the late Zenna Henderson until her death; I don't know who owns it now. I have nothing but admiration for those who created these characters and concepts, and I mean no disrespect. I'm not making any money from this; this is just for my own entertainment and for the entertainment of those who want to read it.

By Wesa.

John Kincaid whimpered, sleeping restlessly on his cot in the underground bomb shelter that had become home to him and the three survivors of the fiasco at the Cottage. Every time he went to sleep he relived that horrible night, knowing with certainty what the outcome would be, but utterly unable to change it, no matter how he tried.

>>>>>>

He had to find Ironhorse and get him out. If he could prevent the aliens from cloning him, the Colonel wouldn't kill himself...

Kincaid led the way through the dim corridors of the warehouse, with Harrison close behind him. Somewhere ahead of them, the high-pitched whine of alien energy-weapons sliced through the air. Finding a small opening, they looked through, watching in disbelief as several aliens, both with and without human disguises, were disintegrated by their own weapons, wielded by their own people.

"Why?" Harrison whispered.

Kincaid cringed, his skin crawling at having brought such a rank amateur with him. "Don't know, don't care. As long as they're not killing people. C'mon, let's find Ironhorse and get out of here." As he led the way through the dim maze of the alien complex the walls tilted crazily, pressing in on him until he became dizzy and disoriented. Eventually he found himself with Harrison at the end of a corridor. Beyond the doorway an alien paced the length of a catwalk. When the guard reached the near end of his route he turned his back to them. Kincaid gave the room one swift glance, checking for others, as he stepped onto the catwalk and clobbered the guard, dropping him to the metal grid without a qualm. He ignored the weird machine in the middle of the room below, crossing to the stairwell on the far side. Maybe if they could find Ironhorse and get him out quickly this time...

But Harrison wasn't built that way. Although Kincaid was in the lead and had his eyes focussed ahead of him, somehow he 'saw' Harrison glance to his right as he crossed the catwalk, do a double take, and freeze. "Kincaid!" he hissed. He was gone down the other stairway before Kincaid could turn back to see what had caught the scientist's attention.

Ironhorse lay in the cloning device, weak as a kitten. They were too late. Kincaid's blood ran cold.

<<<<<

He jerked awake, sitting bolt upright and breathing raggedly. He gulped. The nightmare again. Just a dream, it was just a dream. He rubbed his hand across his eyes, trying to dispel the fragments that lingered. He had to get back to sleep. They might lose this war to the damned aliens, and if he was going to help prevent that, he needed a decent night's sleep! He lay back down, groaning, and pulled the blankets over his head.

>>>>>

Ironhorse lay in the alien machine, weak as a kitten. At least Kincaid thought it was a machine; it almost looked like some kind of a plant. He was irrevocably reminded of a Venus flytrap, supplementing the scant nutrients of its native soil by trapping insects. The sight of Ironhorse lying helpless in the machine scared him badly, but he suppressed the urge to panic. They needed Ironhorse, and Ironhorse needed their help. Maybe they could still get him out and get back to the Cottage before it was too late. He followed Harrison to the lower level at a run, trying to cover their backs at the same time.

Everything took too long. They had to get Ironhorse and get out, get back to the Cottage before the clone could set his bomb. If they could do that, Norton would live, and they needed him. They had to kill the clone before it could take Debi hostage. If they could just do that, Ironhorse wouldn't be forced to sacrifice himself. They needed him. They had to hurry.

Fighting a sense of impending doom, Kincaid tried to help Harrison get the Colonel out of the machine while standing guard over them. They should have taken him out naked, but Ironhorse was shivering, and Harrison insisted on looking for something to keep him warm. He found some grey work clothes in a cabinet in the next room, and Harrison helped Ironhorse get dressed while Kincaid paced, paced, paced, the urgent need to get back to the Cottage eating at him all the while.

Finally they were on their way, back up the stairs to the upper level and into the maze of passageways with Harrison almost carrying Ironhorse, when once again Kincaid 'saw' his surroundings from an outside perspective. Above and behind them, a small greenish globe flew out of a side corridor, turning its single lens toward them. Almost instantly alarms rang out, their distorted whooping warped and alien. "Let's go!" Kincaid shouted, no longer concerned about keeping the noise down, and they ran through seemingly endless corridors.

Somehow they got away, got out to the van. In the back Harrison was trying to understand what Ironhorse meant with his repeated warning, "They made a copy..." Ironhorse was clearly distressed, and knew the clone was dangerous. If Ironhorse was worried, there was reason to be afraid. Kincaid's desperation deepened.

The drive back to the Cottage seemed to go on forever. It got colder, and then it started to rain. The darkness was blacker, the kind of inky blackness that eats up light, and the van's headlights didn't penetrate very far through it.

There were no other vehicles on the street, and not many people. The whole world was eerily deserted. Kincaid could hardly see where he was going, would have been utterly lost if not for the occasional sickly-colored streetlight. In cones of yellow-green light at street corners, those few people who populated the night glared with hatred at the van as Kincaid drove past, and he started to recognize the faces of people he had once known, once cared about: his brother Max; their parents; Sergeant Reynolds from Delta squad.

Behind him, he could hear Harrison's gently soothing voice trying to calm Ironhorse, and the sound of it nearly drove Kincaid mad. Don't worry? Everything will be all right? Don't worry? Kincaid wanted to turn around and rage at Harrison that the aliens had been able to take as their prisoner the most experienced military leader the human team had, that they were rushing headlong into disaster, that nothing was all right, but he found himself unable to speak. He stared, transfixed, at the next streetlight.

In that hellish cone of light stood a little girl. She seemed perhaps eight years old, her blonde hair gathered in thick pigtails just behind her ears; she wore the uniform of one of the city's private schools. Unmindful of the rain that didn't even dampen her hair, she glared balefully at the van - no, at Kincaid himself - as they approached her corner.

It was late. It was dangerous. A little girl in pigtails shouldn't be out by herself this time of night. There was no time to stop, not even to tell her to get home for her own sake. Fearing for the safety of the entire world, Kincaid drove on past, unable to look away from her face. As they went by, she screamed - and the scream was the sound of the alien alarms, and her eyes and her breath glowed green in the darkness. An echoing scream tried to escape from Kincaid's throat, constricting the muscles so that he could hardly breathe.

And then Ironhorse managed the two more words that made sense of his distress. "They made a copy of me..."

<<<<<

Kincaid woke with his own scream bubbling at his lips, barely managing to bite back the sound that would have brought the others running. He chewed at the knuckle of his forefinger, telling himself once again that it was only a dream...

>>>>>

They found Suzanne in the computer lab, with Norton the computer whiz lying dead on the cold white floor. "I can't find Debi!" Suzanne cried fearfully over the sound of gunfire outside. Her shrill exclamation seemed to echo, reverberating faintly through the house.

Kincaid turned and headed back upstairs, leaving Harrison to urge Suzanne to come with them to search for her daughter. They found Debi in the living room with Ironhorse - only this Ironhorse was vibrant, vital, not the shocky shadow of a man they had found in the alien machine. He wore fatigues rather than the grey work clothes they had found in the alien complex, and as they entered the living room he forced Debi to her knees in front of the fireplace and knelt beside her, nestling the barrel of his gun in her ear. Kincaid's heart froze. Too late! You're too late! it screamed at him. It's all going wrong!

It wasn't so much that Debi was in danger; the whole world was in danger. But Debi was in danger from something that looked like Ironhorse, who would never have harmed any child, especially not this child. The clone's threats seemed to echo over the reverberations of Suzanne's earlier exclamation while that weird distortion of his vision allowed him to watch the real Ironhorse stagger into the house, grey-faced with exhaustion.

"I am Ironhorse," the clone declared proudly. "There is no other."

"You're wrong," Ironhorse's trembling voice said from nearby, and Kincaid looked to see the real Colonel standing in the doorway, letting the wall hold him upright. The clone said something else, something about the man and the clone being identical, and again Ironhorse disagreed. "Not the same, but linked ... linked..." He looked at them and said goodbye, told Debi to close her eyes, then raised his gun.

No! There has to be another way. Colonel, don't do this! Kincaid tried to shout a warning, but his throat wouldn't work as he choked on his fear. A moment later he was staring at a corpse crumpled in the corner, even as he urged Harrison to follow Suzanne and Debi out before the explosion came. Then he, too, ran, despair washing over him in a flood. Over the echoes of the gunshot, a woman's scream throbbed through the night.

And again the visual distortion came, allowing him to 'see' behind him as he ran from the house, where two angelic figures bore the honored dead, Norton and Ironhorse, out of the house and up to heaven.

<<<<<

Kincaid murmured softly in his sleep and turned onto his side, the distress of his nightmare unaccountably gone. Norton and the Colonel were safe now. They had gone to a better place. A sense of well being suffused Kincaid, and he slipped deep into a peaceful sleep.

*****

On the roof of the warehouse where Kincaid parked his van, Valancy sagged into Jemmy's arms, her face pasty. "Are you alright, beloved?" Jemmy asked her.

After a moment she nodded. "He was stuck in a nightmare, re-living what happened," she whispered, the night wind blowing her soft white curls. "I had to go into his dream to turn it. Dear God! He saw him, Jemmy. He saw Paul shoot himself. They all did, all except the girl, and she -- " Valancy shuddered, turning in her husband's arms and burying her face against his chest.

"Rest a bit," Jemmy encouraged her. "We'll look at the stars and marvel at all God has created."

She tipped her head back and smiled up at him, but shook her head. "I'm okay," she assured him. "The others aren't dreaming right now. Theirs will be easier."

*****

In the cubicle next to Kincaid's, Harrison also murmured and turned over, smiling.

>>>>>

The sun was shining brightly on a meadow of intensely green, cloverlike plants with yellow daisy flowers. Overhead, white cottony clouds buffed the sky to an unbelievable shade of blue, and beneath its dome a man and a woman walked hand-in-hand.

"Do you have to go back?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. Harrison smiled; the man was Norton. "My world and my friends are in danger," Norton continued. "I have to return when the others go back. I have to help ... But you could come with me."

The woman smiled, her white teeth contrasting with her dusky skin. "Father would have a quanic," she told him.

Norton hesitated. "Is that a bad thing, Sharada?"

Sharada laughed. "Father often despairs of me ever becoming 'proper,'" she told him. "You saw his face when we told him we were going for a walk to enjoy the nice weather. We don't do that here."

"Why not?" he asked, pausing so that she turned to face him. He lifted one hand and touched her face with his fingertips.

She closed her dark eyes and turned her face into his touch. "When we first came here, we couldn't go outside without shielding. It's become habit. But walks like this one could become a nicer habit," she added softly, lifting her face as he bent his neck.

<<<<<

Harrison woke with a smile on his face, wondering vaguely what part of his psyche had come up with the impossible scenario. "Impossible or not," he murmured to himself, turning over, "I hope he's that happy."

Deeper in the tunnel, Suzanne sighed and moved restlessly on the uncomfortable cot. She hated the tunnels, where it was always damp, even during the drought of a few months earlier. She hated the war that had forced them to live in the tunnels. She hated the aliens that had made both the war and their life in the tunnels necessary. Why had they insisted on trying to take Earth over completely? Why couldn't they have come and asked for help and places to live? As smart as they were, as technologically advanced, surely they could have made a bargain of some kind with humans... And then her friends wouldn't have died so needlessly.

She felt the tears well up in her eyes and roll out the corners, over her temples and into her hair. She sniffed. After working with him for over a year, living in the same house for most of that time, she missed Norton dreadfully. His lively wit and ready smile had made the horror of their covert war easier to bear. He was like a brother to her, and the loss of his companionship was almost more than she could bear.

She missed Paul, too. The quiet force of his presence, his rock-steady strength had been even more reassuring than Norton's jokes. She would never forget looking up when she expected to see aliens preparing to take over her body, and seeing Paul instead, rushing to her rescue. She had thrown her arms around his neck and hugged him hard, had been grateful to feel him hug back. She had known then that he would give his life for her if he had to, that she could trust him utterly with Debi's safety. She could and she had, and her trust had been well placed. Her daughter was alive because of Paul's bravery and honor.

Finally giving in to the swell of sorrow, Suzanne turned onto her side, buried her face in her pillow and mourned her friends, crying herself to sleep.

>>>>>

Bright yellow sunshine shone through the window, flooding the room with cheerful light. Suzanne sighed wistfully in her sleep. It had been so long since she had slept in a similar room in the Cottage! Sheer white curtains blew softly in the breeze through the open window, billowing and falling back, revealing a woman sitting on the edge of the bed beyond. She was lovely, with clear skin, deep blue eyes, and a cloud of black hair that drifted past her shoulders. She smiled in delight at the occupant of the bed, and Suzanne moved so that she could see who made the woman so happy.

He lay propped up on many pillows, his head bandaged and his hair - what she could see of it - just starting to grow back after having been shaved, but the strong features, the high brow, the dark eyes that smiled back at the woman beside him - all were unmistakable. "Paul!" Suzanne cried joyously.

Almost as if he had heard, his eyes flicked toward her, looked through and beyond her, and a shadow of concern crossed his face. The woman beside him echoed his expression as she reached to caress his cheek, speaking to him gently. "You aren't well yet, Paul. You must concentrate first on healing. We'll return as soon as you're strong enough to endure the journey."

He caught her hand in his. "Randie," he said, his voice sounding strange to Suzanne. He lifted his other hand to his throat, fingering a smaller bandage under his jaw, and tried again. "Randie, I have to get back as soon as possible. I know you don't like to think about it, but I'm needed there."

"I need you, too," she whispered. "If you were to go back now, you would only be a distraction, a liability to them. You could be killed, or you could endanger your friends. You know that."

He sighed. "Yes, I know. . . I know," he agreed reluctantly. "It's just that I'm so worried about them."

Randie - this was Randie? - leaned forward, lying close along Paul's chest and tucking her face into the angle between his pajama-clad shoulder and his neck as he embraced her tenderly. "Jemmy and Valancy were looking for them when we left," she murmured. "They'll do what they can to protect them, to prepare them for your return. They probably think you're dead, you know."

"I should be dead. I thought I was," he told her, tangling his fingers in her hair. "How did you get me out?"

"The Power willed it so," she replied. "I can no longer pick up your feelings the way I suddenly did that night. Whatever ability was there, I seem to have burned it out. Or maybe I can no longer access it because I don't need it anymore. I can see your emotions on your face and in your eyes, now. And when we merge..."

Merge? Suzanne wondered.

"Yes." Paul smiled. "I wasn't sure what was happening the first time, but to have you inside my mind that way - No one has ever known everything about me like you do."

" I don't know everything about you," she disagreed. "No one ever knows everything about anybody else. That would take away the fun of learning."

"When we get home," he said, "when I'm healed and the war is over, we can spend the rest of our lives getting to know each other better."

"The rest of our lives," Randie repeated, her eyes drifting closed as she drowsed.

Paul smiled, pressing his cheek to the top of her head as his eyes also closed.

<<<<<

Suzanne sighed in her sleep as the dream dissolved. Yes, wherever he was, Paul deserved his happiness. He had been a friend and a protector for over a year for both Suzanne and her daughter, and he had died to save Debi's life. If this was his heaven, she wished him all the happiness there was in it.

In the alcove next to her mother's, Debi smiled.

>>>>>

She laughed, her arms outstretched as she flew through the clouds, unfettered by gravity for the first time in her life. On either side of her, all around her, ahead and behind, above and below, other children her own age flew with her.

A blonde girl a couple of years older was on Debi's right. She grinned at Debi and called, "Having fun?"

"It's wonderful!" Debi exclaimed.

"I'm Lytha," the blonde called. "You must be Debi."

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Norton and Paul told us about you. We're so glad to meet you at last."

A shaft of fear speared its way through Debi's heart. "Norton and Paul? But they died. Are you angels? Am I dead, too?"

Lytha laughed. "You're not dead, and we're not angels," she assured Debi. "And Paul and Norton - Well, you'll see in a moment. When we come out of the clouds, sing with us."

Debi was terribly confused, but she had no time to protest that she didn't know the words to the song, for just then the flock of young teens burst out of the white cloud into the brilliant sunshine, into air unpolluted by any trace of car exhaust, smoke, or chemical by-products from factories. Her companions burst into song, giving voice to a wonderfully pure chord, the vocalization of pure joy, and as they swooped low over the adults on the ground, Debi focused on two of the faces looking up at them. Then she, too, felt one pure note of joy burst from her throat even as tears streamed down her cheeks, for Norton and the Colonel were there, vibrantly alive and reaching to hug her as Lytha guided her down to the ground in front of them.

Debi dived into their arms, wondering vaguely what had happened to the Colonel's hair, and how Norton could stand now, but too delighted in their presence to want to question them.

<<<<<

Suzanne looked in on Debi in her small alcove, where the teenager smiled and murmured in her sleep. Too often lately, Debi's dreams had been about the war and the death that could take any of them at any moment. The mother was glad to see that her daughter was having pleasant dreams for a change.

She went on into the common room that served as living room and headquarters, not surprised to see that Kincaid was up ahead of her, but quite startled to see Harrison there as well. "You're awake early," she greeted him, reaching for the coffeepot.

"I had the best dream," Harrison replied, grinning. "It was about Norton. He had met a lovely young woman, and they were walking in a park."

"Y' didn't strike me as the sort who believed in life after death, Harrison," Kincaid said, smiling over the rim of his cup.

"You're missing the point, Kincaid," Harrison told him. "In my dream, he was walking. He looked like he was having a good time. He looked like he was in love."

"I dreamed about Paul," Suzanne said wonderingly. She smiled. "He was in bed, like he was recovering from his injuries, and there was a woman who was sitting on the edge of his bed, smiling at him. They looked so happy."

"Was it Randie? Oh, that's right, you never met her," Harrison said. He sighed and sipped at his coffee. "I wonder how she's doing? I think she loved him as much as he loved her."

Suzanne gasped as the memory struck her. "Oh my god, Harrison! Wasn't she supposed to come visit that day? She was bringing her cousin or something to meet Debi."

He nodded. "Lytha, yeah. Sweet kid." He shook his head. "You know, I thought I heard Randie scream that night. But she couldn't have been there yet, could she? I wonder what they did when they got there."

"What could they do?" Kincaid asked reasonably. "They probably stood and stared for a while, and then went home."

"I wish I had a phone number, though," Harrison said. "Randie deserves to know what a hero Paul was."

Suzanne smiled sadly and sipped at her coffee, letting the conversation move on.

**********

Valancy smiled as she pulled back from the mind of the sleeping child. She leaned her head back onto Jemmy's shoulder and sighed. "There," she murmured. "The adults are already discussing their dreams, and Debi will soon join them."

"Karen says she and Frank got into the dreams of two of the Morthren scientists and one of their assistants, and those of one of the children. But she says she'll need your help to Sort their leader. He has gone so far into the Darkness that she can't reach him without an anchor on This-Side." Jemmy held his wife close to himself, stroking her white hair tenderly. "Are you strong enough?"

"It will be as the Power wills it," Valancy murmured, "but I can't reach that far from here, not after bringing images all the way from the New Home for their dreams."

He gathered her slender body in his arms. "You're too tired to Lift," he told her gently. "Let me carry you."

"We may need physical contact to be able to help him," Valancy murmured. "Ask Frank to call Davy. Show him what we need to be able to go inside their base in safety."

She drifted off to sleep herself as Jemmy Lifted into the brightening dawn over the city. He smiled at the seed of an idea his wife had passed to him, aware of Frank's chuckle as Jemmy told him, and knowing that Davy would kick himself for not thinking of a personal unlight sooner.