Two days of coordinated evacuation efforts had saved more people than Harry had ever imagined possible.
Starting with the eighty thousand refugees he'd already rescued, Harry had managed to evacuate another 2.24 million people through a combination of permanent spatial gates and direct rescues. The Muggle World now housed over 2.3 million human beings, all of whom would have been dead or processed into fertilizer without the evacuation efforts.
NORAD's assistance had been absolutely invaluable.
Harry had initially thought he'd be flying from city to city at his maximum speed of around 540 kilometers per hour, but the military had provided KC-135 tankers and C-17 transport aircraft that could cruise at over 800 kilometers per hour. More importantly, they'd handled all the logistics that Harry never would have thought of on his own.
The Emergency Alert System had broadcast specific instructions telling civilians exactly which military bases to reach for evacuation. AWACS aircraft had provided real-time intelligence about Tripod movements, allowing Harry to destroy them before they could reach large intact population centers. Ground crews at each base had established organized lanes with triage stations and MRE distribution points, ensuring that people could move through the spatial gates quickly and efficiently.
Harry had seeded permanent gates at eighteen major hubs… twelve within the continental United States and six at overseas bases.
Each gate had operated for an average of nine to ten hours during the evacuation window, processing about twelve thousand people per hour. That was roughly two hundred people per minute moving through each gate in organized lanes, which had only been possible because of military crowd control and the fact that people weren't carrying luggage when fleeing for their lives.
The coordination had been so effective that Harry had actually been able to establish smaller pop-up gates at additional locations when NORAD identified pockets of survivors that couldn't reach the main hubs.
Of course, managing 2.3 million refugees had required massive expansion of the support infrastructure.
He had been forced to create another 2,240 house-elves to somewhat maintain his new rule of one house-elf per thousand refugees. His total house-elf population was now approaching 3,740 individuals, which would have been completely unsustainable without the time dilation systems he'd established.
The House-Elf World was running at ten times the speed of the Muggle World, which meant that while forty days had passed in the refugee camps, roughly four hundred days - over a year - had elapsed in the house-elves' dimension. That extra time had allowed Tineth and the other house-elf leaders to establish formal guilds for healing, logistics, water management, and construction. They'd also been able to properly train the incoming 2,240 house-elves without the entire support system collapsing under the strain.
The Muggle World itself had undergone dramatic changes during the forty days that had passed there.
The original refugee camps of Tent City Alpha and Tent City Beta had evolved into large proto-towns as people organized themselves into more permanent communities. Most of the population had relocated toward the nearby major river that ran through the nation-sized world, establishing settlements along the banks for easier access to fresh water while the house-elves worked to install proper water distribution systems and storage facilities.
Regarding the Church of the Creator, it too had grown explosively during those forty days. When people are living through constant arrivals of new refugees through large spatial gates, witnessing beautiful 'little elves' performing obvious miracles, and knowing they've been saved by an actual angel-god, religious conversion tends to happen quickly.
Harry estimated that at least sixty percent of the 2.3 million refugees now considered themselves members of the Church, with more joining every day.
He had deliberately remained hands-off with the Church's development. He'd provided broad moral guidelines inspired from Christianity's Ten Commandments, but he hadn't tried to micromanage their theological discussions or organizational structure.
It was better to maintain his image as a distant divine figure rather than someone the mortals could call upon for day-to-day management decisions.
And he just didn't have the time to truly think on what he wanted from his believers.
Besides that, the evacuation efforts had required Harry to push his abilities to their absolute limits. He hadn't felt physically exhausted, but the mental strain had been enormous. He'd been forced to rest twice during the two-day period, spending several hours in meditation to allow his soul to recover from Inner Eye overuse.
Precognition was incredibly useful for avoiding Tripod death rays, but using it continuously for hours at a time caused significant soul damage…
Now, as Harry flew through the night sky over what had once been the suburbs of Denver, he was tracking something a bit more dangerous than the standard Tripods he'd been fighting for the past few days.
The 'Uberpod' was nearly thrice the size of a normal Tripod, with additional armor plating and what someone at NORAD had told him was probably advanced sensor technology. Harry had been hunting this particular machine for about fifteen minutes after leaving the aircraft, following its path of destruction through three different cities that had been evacuated already.
Unlike the standard Tripods that focused on harvesting humans, the Uberpod seemed to be actively searching for something.
Harry suspected it was searching for him.
Not that he cared, he needed the information that its pilot might possess. The low-ranking alien he'd interrogated three days ago had known almost nothing about the Masters' true capabilities or long-term plans.
A higher-ranking pilot might have access to more strategic information.
"Cheyenne to Angel," came the crackling voice through his earpiece. "Voodoo three-one reports your target radiating active search, eastbound twenty knots. Denver evac route green."
"Angel copies," Harry replied quietly. "Beginning approach now."
Harry could see the Uberpod in the distance, standing in what had been a shopping mall parking lot. The large machine was surrounded by the red-gray K'tharr vines that had already begun consuming all native plants, turning the area into an alien garden.
The sight of those vines still filled Harry with disgust. He'd burned hundreds of square miles of K'tharr vegetation during his evacuation flights, but for every acre he destroyed, ten more seemed to sprout up somewhere else. The alien terraforming process was accelerating, and some of the vines were even turning gray.
What that meant, he didn't know.
Harry sighed deeply and glanced down at the simple woven bracelet around his wrist, feeling the warm glass flame bead that had been worked into the cord. Little Rachel Ferrier had given it to him yesterday when her mother had finally been evacuated through the Boston gate.
"Thank you for saving us," the girl whispered, pressing the bracelet into his hands. "I made it with help from one of the pretty elves. It's supposed to be like your fire."
Ray Ferrier stood nearby with the other soldiers near Lieutenant General Barrett, both of them looking exhausted after coordinating evacuations at the Boston hub for eighteen straight hours. Ray joined up with the military as a civilian contractor after getting his children to safety, helping to organize evacuation lanes and manage crowd flow.
"She's been working on that for three days," Ray said quietly, watching his daughter. "Ever since she heard the soldiers talking about what you did to that Mason bastard back at the camps. And when Barrett told everyone about the enormous flame you used to clear the alien vines..."
Barrett shook her head slowly. "I've never seen anything like it, sir. The entire horizon was on fire. We could feel the heat from twenty miles away."
Harry smiled and knelt down to Rachel's eye level, accepting the bracelet with appropriate solemnity. "Thank you, Rachel. I'll treasure it."
Now, as he prepared to capture his first Uberpod, the small gift was a reminder of exactly what he was fighting for. Not just the abstract concept of humanity's survival, but specific people like Rachel Ferrier who deserved the chance to grow up in a world where they didn't have to fear being processed into fertilizer.
A world that still had hope.
Harry pulled a Citrinitas Spear from his Treasury and held it ready. He'd learned from experience that Tripod shields had a specific weak point near what he assumed was the power source, located about two-thirds of the way up the main body.
It was time to see whether Uberpods had the same vulnerability.
He dropped from the clouds like a falling star, wings folded back for maximum speed. The Uberpod's sensors detected him at the last second, but it was far too late to react. Harry drove the Citrinitas Spear directly through the machine's shield generator with all of his immense strength behind the blow.
The Uberpod's energy shields flickered and died instantly.
Before the alien 'mecha' could recover, Harry grabbed the edges of what looked like an access hatch and tore it open with his bare hands. The metal shrieked as it bent, revealing the alien pilot inside its control chamber.
This alien looked different from the foot soldier he'd interrogated three days ago. It was slightly larger, with white tattoos on its gray skin, but what really caught Harry's attention was how sick it appeared. The creature's black eyes were cloudy, its breathing was labored, and there were strange discolored patches along its limbs.
Harry yanked the alien out of its control chamber and pinned it to the ground.
"Can you understand me?"
The alien's head turned toward him with obvious effort. "Monster-of-spear-flames," it rasped. "This-one-recognizes-your-signature-from-orbital-reports."
He grabbed a vial of Veritaserum from the Treasury that he had Nicolas buy yesterday on their home world and forced the alien's mouth open. The creature tried to resist, but Harry's strength made the struggle pointless. He poured the entire contents down its throat and waited for the potion to take effect.
"What are orbital reports?" Harry demanded.
The alien's cloudy eyes became slightly more focused as the truth serum worked through its system. "This-one-transmits-data-every-cycle-to-sky-watchers," it said in a monotone voice. "Thirty-of-your-hours-between-each-report."
That wasn't specific enough. Harry needed to understand exactly what kind of surveillance they were dealing with. He leaned closer to the alien, letting his Presence fill its soul with the utter certainty he could destroy it in an instant. The creature's breathing became even more labored.
"Explain sky-watchers. What do they do?"
"High-cold-eyes-in-void," the alien responded mechanically. "Not-controllers. Auditors-and-arbiters. They-receive-uploads-and-return-dispute-glyphs."
Dispute glyphs?
That sounded like there was some kind of conflict happening among the aliens themselves…
But first, he had an idea. The alien was clearly terrified of disobeying its Masters, even under Veritaserum. Fear was limiting how much information it would provide by virtue of personality resistance.
Harry could fix that problem.
He took a deep breath and focused on two specific emotions. Sanctuary, the feeling of being completely safe and protected from all harm. Courage, the strength to face any danger without flinching.
He breathed out slowly, releasing Soul Resonance Mist directly into the alien's face.
The silvery vapor swirled around the higher-ranking slave's head, carrying the emotional resonance deep into its being.
The alien's posture straightened slightly, and the constant trembling in its limbs stopped. More importantly, the glazed look of absolute terror that had been present in its eyes since Harry had captured it completely disappeared.
Fear was such a fundamental part of how these creatures functioned, wasn't it?
They were slaves who had been conditioned to panic at the mere thought of disobeying orders. Remove that fear, and suddenly they could think clearly about their situation for the first time in their lives.
"Now," Harry said, grabbing the alien by the throat and lifting it slightly off the ground.
"Tell me about these sky-watchers. What exactly do you report to them?"
The alien's voice was much steadier now. "This-one-reports-to-two-unique-uplink-audiences. Different-glyph-colors-for-different-purposes."
Harry squeezed the alien's throat slightly to encourage more details.
"First-audience-is-Record-Tally," the alien continued without any sign of distress. "Cold-number-questions. Harvest-volume-processed. Vine-spread-percentages. Loss-rates-of-machines-and-bodies. Blue-count-glyphs."
"Second-audience-is-Claim-Garden. Territory-questions. Boundary-marks-established. Atmosphere-conformance-measurements. Seed-viability-reports. Amber-claim-glyphs."
Harry frowned. Two different sets of superiors asking completely different questions? That sounded like two separate organizations rather than a unified command structure. And if they were using different colored glyphs, they probably didn't want their reports getting mixed up.
"Why two audiences?" Harry asked.
"This-one-does-not-question-the-structure," the alien replied. "But-this-one-has-received-dispute-glyphs-about-garden-boundary-marks. Other-faction-has-lodged-competing-claim."
Other faction. So there were definitely multiple groups involved in this invasion, and they weren't working together harmoniously. Harry could work with that information.
"Tell me about your orders for this mission."
The alien's response came out like a religious recitation. "Spend-bodies-to-cleanse. Starve-the-rival-of-garden-rights."
Harry blinked. Spend bodies to cleanse made sense - they were supposed to process humans and spread the vines. But starve the rival of garden rights? That sounded like this entire invasion was designed to screw over some other faction.
"Explain garden-rights."
"Garden-claim-is-legal-state," the alien said matter-of-factly. "When-planet-atmosphere-curves-toward-specification, Claim-can-petition-Record-to-transfer-stewardship. Seal-changes-hands-on-ash."
So ownership of planets could be transferred based on atmospheric conditions. And apparently there was some kind of bureaucratic process involved.
He was starting to get a clearer picture of what was happening here.
"Your wave was supposed to die, wasn't it?" Harry asked bluntly.
"Budgeted-attrit," the alien confirmed without hesitation. "This-wave-was-denied-husk-skins-by-Stewards-of-Count. Bodies-designed-to-be-spent-quickly."
"What are husk-skins?"
"Protective-bio-membranes. Sealed-breath-apparatus. Microbe-immunity-coverings." The alien gestured weakly at the discolored patches on its limbs. "This-one-is-dying-from-local-contamination."
They had deliberately sent this invasion wave without protection against an alien environment's bacteria? Even Harry knew he had to cleanse himself with Life Flames whenever he was transported to a different universe after the incident at Sun Warrior Ruins, so it was no wonder the creature looked so sick...
"Next-wave-doctrine-toggles-protection-flags-on," the alien continued. "Husk-skins-granted. Quarantine-webs-granted. Bodies-will-not-be-spent."
A second wave with full biological protection. That was exactly what Harry had feared.
"When?" Harry demanded.
"Soon. This-one-received-conflicting-priority-tags-in-last-command-bundle. One-ordering-maximum-body-spend-to-accelerate-vine-gray-phase. One-cautioning-not-to-exceed-loss-ratio-that-would-trigger-rival-rescue-clause."
Gray phase? Harry had noticed some of the vines turning gray, but he hadn't understood what it represented.
"Explain gray-phase."
"Red-phase-is-expansion-mode. Fast-biomass-growth-and-root-establishment. Gray-phase-is-spore-mature-atmosphere-active-stage." The alien's breathing became more labored as it spoke. "Gray-stands-exhale-carrier-fog-with-catalytic-spores. Creates-husk-layer-that-suppresses-local-microbes-and-changes-air-chemistry-toward-Masters-specification."
"How much gray coverage triggers garden-claim?"
"Threshold-coverage-plus-air-conformance-index-must-reach-specified-levels. Then-Claim-can-file-garden-petition-with-Record."
So there was a specific percentage of gray vine coverage that would legally transfer ownership of Earth to these aliens. And based on what Harry had seen during his evacuation flights, they were probably getting close to that threshold.
Harry stood up, releasing his grip on the alien's throat. He had learned everything he truly needed to know.
Two blocs in the same empire were fighting a paper war over Earth, using a slave race as expendable pilots. One bloc had leaned on procurement to deny bio-protection to the first wave so those bodies would die quickly while still pushing red into gray, advancing a "garden" claim and bleeding the rival's asset pool, while the neutral sky-watchers in orbit waited to certify ownership the moment gray coverage and air chemistry held over threshold. The second wave would arrive with husk-skins and quarantine webs to lock that conformance in and shut the door.
And the gray stands were about to start exhaling the carrier fog that would smother Earth's microbes and bend the air itself.
It went without saying that Earth had no hope of winning this war.