The Salvation War 2: Pantheocide

by Slade, Stuart

  “Are we ready to go?” Colonel Warhol looked around at the set-up to make sure everything was in place. A dozen or more V-22 Ospreys were standing by, their engines idling as they waited for the long-sought after Heavengate to form. All the equipment was set up, Lemuel-Lan was ready to open his portal from Earth to Heaven. The moment he did so, his signal would be monitored, recorded, digitized and fed into the waiting computers. That was all humanity had been waiting for, that one signal that would open up the gates of Heaven. They already had one from the first brief recon contact, now this data would confirm it. Across the open space of the testing ground, he could see another team getting ready to set up the link from Hell. Experiments had proved that having portals too close together would result in unfortunate effects, not the least being the merging of the two into a larger portal of uncertain destination. Portal science was beginning to be established as a real branch of scientific inquiry now, one day soon the links between it and the main body of scientific knowledge would be found and the glaring anomalies that currently existed would be explained. That applied to all the areas of study that had opened up since Hell had been discovered and not one of them was of any great interest to Colonel Warhol.

  “kitten, you and Dani had better mount up. You'll be going through as soon as the portal is open. You know how to find here, no matter what's on the other side, punch through a portal of your own if this one closes behind you. We want to depend on him as little as possible.”

  “We got the briefing.” Dani sounded slightly surly. He didn't like the implication that he had to be told things more than once. He tugged on kitten's leash and the two of them boarded the closest of the Ospreys.

  “Hellgate is open now.” The message came over the radio but Warhol could see the black ellipse that had suddenly formed. It was strange how the sight of a portal had ceased to be awe-inspiring or threatening. Now they were no more significant than the ‘welcome to’ signs that graced American highways when somebody crossed a state line. To a military man, they were also far from threatening. Once, an opening Hellgate meant that a daemonic attack was imminent, now it showed that one of the armored units of the Human Expeditionary Army was within a few minutes drive. That simple fact had changed military planning out of all recognition. It had also created an entirely new branch of alternate history. Warhol was reading one such novel now, by some author called Turtleshell. It asked a simple question, what would have happened if Abigor had brought his Nagas along instead of leaving them behind? If he'd accepted the limitation they imposed on his mobility in favor of the ability to generate large, tactically significant portals? Still, such questions were for authors; Warhol was a soldier and soldiers deal with what is, not what might have been.

  “Lemuel-Lan-Michael?” Warhol looked at the message in his hand. “I've just had a message from Johns Hopkins. Maion is out of surgery, they've repaired the damage to her wings. She's resting now, under sedation, but the operation was a success. Whether that will mean she can fly again, we just don’t know. We've never treated angels before, especially one with such major injuries.”

  “Thank you Colonel.” Lemuel's eyes were sunk deep into their sockets and his face was drawn and tired. He hadn't slept since he and Maion had made their desperate escape to Earth. “Do you want me to open the portal to Heaven now?”

  “If you would please. Make one large enough to take that.” He gestured at the V-22 that was assigned to carry kitten and her equipment through the Heavengate. Lemuel's eyes widened at the size of the portal he was being asked to create but nodded. He could do it, for Maion, for all the angels suffering in Heaven, and for his friend Michael who was trying to save them, he had to.

  “Transit-prime, this is Sirius-Prime actual here. We're coming through the Hellgate and forming up now. Hokay guys, we'll be ready to move in five minutes.”

  Sirius-Prime, the armored battalion that was the spearhead of the Third Herd. And if Warhol recognized his accents, with Colonel Keisha Stevenson in command. That wasn't a surprise, ever since the initial fighting with Abigor, she had been Petraeus's go-to officer every time he wanted something unusual or dangerous done. She was (so far living) proof that gaining a senior General's attention was all too often the key to a short but exciting life.

  Lemuel-Lan closed his eyes and concentrated. He found the location in Heaven he wanted, Belial's concentration camp, easily enough. The sights, sounds and smell of the place were scarred deeply into his mind after all. All he needed was to energize the contact and the job would be done. Lemuel very much doubted whether the humans realized what they were asking him to do. The simple act of opening the portal was betraying the teachings of countless millennia. He summoned his strength, linked to the point he wanted and poured energy into the connection. Opening a portal from Earth to Heaven was difficult at the best of times and his still-present doubts made it all the more so. Still, he thought of Maion as he and Michael had found her, crawling in the mud and whimpering as she dragged her shattered wings behind her. That alone was enough. It was not he who had betrayed his faith, it was Yahweh who had betrayed him and every other Angel in the Host.

  Suddenly, in a blinding flash of understanding, Lemuel-Lan understood why the humans had taken this war so seriously. Why, in their rage they had sworn to destroy the power that had so contemptuously betrayed them. Michael-Lan had been right all along, the humans had fought Satan the way they fought all their enemies, no more and no less. Satan had been a self-declared enemy of humanity and they could understand and even forgive that. They had dealt with such enemies before and doubtless would do so again. And, when they had dealt with them, they had made peace. But, humans did not tolerate betrayal. They had destroyed Satan and ground down his kingdom but they loathed Yahweh beyond any measure he could imagine. If they invaded Heaven, and if they didn’t do it today, they would at some time in the future, they wouldn’t stop fighting until Yahweh and the Angelic Host were crushed so thoroughly they would never recover. Michael-Lan was right, this had been the only way. In front of him, the great black ellipse formed and stabilized.

  Cockpit, V-22C “Dragon-One-Zero”, Fort Knox, Kentucky.

  “Hold tight, here we go.” Captain Mark Sheppard's hands moved on the controls and the Osprey lifted off, then transitioned from vertical to horizontal flight. Then, he accelerated his aircraft and headed straight through the portal that had formed in front of him. As he went through, he couldn't resist giving out the traditional battle-cry “Geronimo!”

  The Heavengate transition was no more spectacular or marked than the familiar one through a Hellgate. The blue sky of Earth was quietly and unassumingly replaced by the clear white sky and light of Heaven. The one thing that marked the different destination of the Heavengate was the ground. Instead of the red-dominated, dusty landscape of Hell, the skies of Heaven were clear and bright. The ground was green pasture, spread across rolling hills and valleys, interspaced with clumps of earth-like trees. It was beautiful, incredibly beautiful and for one brief moment Sheppard actually regretted that these lovely hills would soon be the scene of fire and destruction, the inevitable trademark of a human army at war.

  Then, his Osprey crested a hill and any pretension of beauty was left behind. Stretched out underneath him was a scene that was indeed straight out of Hell. Not just out of Hell but from the Hellpit itself. A great enclosure with walls and guard towers. Inside it, thousand of angels, dragging themselves along, their shattered wings trailing in the mud behind them. Sheppard thumbed his microphone, he still had a direct line of sight to the portal so his radio worked. “Transit-Prime, this is Dragon-One-Zero. Concentration camp sighted as described. Much worse than described. Looks like our friend was telling the truth. Swinging past now. There's what looks like a good base location about ten miles out from here. If you forget the concentration camp, this place is beautiful.”

  The Osprey skimmed another ridge, dropped out of sight below the ridgeline and then headed for a low plateau that marked a su
itable site for a base area. It transitioned from horizontal to vertical flight and then settled down on the lush green grass that covered the site. By now, the drill was well-established and the equipment had all the benefit of nearly eighteen months of technical development behind it. As a result, it took barely ten minutes to set up the AN/GSY-1(V)4 Mod 6 portal generator and another five for kitten to use it to create another portal back to Fort Knox.

  Fort Knox, Kentucky.

  “Shut yours down. And thank you, Lemuel, head on back to Washington Maion needs you.” The black ellipse that had marked the original portal vanished without a sign that it had even existed. A few hundred yards away, beside the beacon set up for the purpose, a new portal had opened. Warhol watched as the Spearhead Battalion of the Third Armored moved through it and vanished. A few seconds later, a message came over the radio that caused an eruption of cheering all over the base. It said, quite simply, “Base Heavengate-Alpha established.”

  Chapter Sixty Five

  Base Heavengate-Alpha, Heaven

  “Hokay, so we do a Thunder Run Sir. Anywhere in particular or do we get to choose?”

  “Not quite a Thunder Run this time Colonel. You will push in the direction of the concentration camp established ten miles from your present position. A medical unit is following you, your orders are, and your primary responsibility is, to get them to that camp alive and unharmed. You will then force an entry to that camp, secure it and maintain security while the medics work on the inmates. After they have finished, you will cover their extraction.”

  “Very good Sir.”

  “And Colonel. Last time an American division liberated a concentration camp, they lined the guards up and shot them. That was then, this is now, don’t use that as a precedent. We want the guards alive and most especially we want the daemon running that camp alive. Belial has a lot to answer for.”

  “We'll do our best Sir. I won’t make promises I can't keep though. If those guards fight, we'll have to take them down.”

  “That's one thing. Having them all mysteriously ‘shot while trying to escape’ or ‘resisting arrest’ would be something different.”

  “Understood Sir.” Colonel Keisha Stevenson shut down the communications terminal and stepped outside the tent. Communications wouldn't be a tent for very long, the pre-fabricated building that would be the permanent communications section in Heaven was already being erected. The concrete base was already drying and the walls were ranged out beside it, ready to be hoisted into place. The same scene could be spotted all over the base area. Buildings were going up fast as Base Heavengate Alpha-One was turned into a full divisional encampment. Just one of many that were being set up fast as the Ospreys could transport portal teams to suitable areas. First Army Group was pouring into Heaven literally as fast as vehicles could be driven through the portals. Overhead, the V-22s were already flying out to new locations north and west of the Eternal City so that bridgeheads could be established for the Second and Third Army Groups. This onslaught was a far different scene from the early days in Hell when Stevenson had been convinced the brass were making up the plans as they went along.

  “Thoughtful Boss?”

  “Yeah Biker. We got the orders to move out. Take that concentration camp west of here and watch over the medics as they do their thing.” Stevenson looked around. “Kind of miss the old days in Hell.”

  “Like the day we got a disabled driver sticker, put it on the tank and parked it in the Colonel's space?”

  “Just like that. Although we should have asked him to remove his Humvee first. I don’t know, look at this place. Pretty rolling green hills, nice little forests, air so clean it tastes like wine. Well, it does until we start the tanks up. It's too pretty, it lacks character. Hell had character.”

  “Mostly bad.”

  “Yeah, but at least it had some. This place looks like its somebody tried too hard to make the perfect world. It's the Stepford Wives version of an environment. Hokay, we're going to blow it up anyway, it's time to roll. Biker, get the troops together and we'll try and liven this place up a bit.

  Farming Community, Five Miles West of Base Heavengate-Alpha-One, Heaven

  Nobody had removed the body of their angel. He was still sprawled out on the ground on the outskirts of the village where the soldiers had shot him down. Haropamiel-Lan-Mihmakeal had seen the column of vehicles approaching and stepped out into the road in front of them, holding up his hand, palm facing the newcomers. The Ishim had held his ground, even when the newcomers had driven right up to him and fired their guns at his feet. Then, three of their vehicles had opened fire on him and Haropamiel had fallen. Now, half the village was wailing in grief at the death of their lord while the rest were stunned by the sight of an Angel being casually killed.

  “Hokay, we hold here until the medical convoy joins us, then we push the rest of the way.” The commander of the newcomers was speaking to another officer.

  Benedict almost fainted with terror at the thought of what he was about to do but his duties left him no choice. In point of fact, he had no official duties, Haropamiel had been the only authority in the hamlet but Benedict had been his right hand in dealing with the humans and the habit still held good. Anyway, with Haropamiel laying dead in the dirt, surrounded by a pool of his peerless white blood, somebody had to take charge. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and addressed the officer of soldiers. “Sir, it is time for us to make our daily reverences to the Lord of All.”

  The officer turned around and, to his shock, Benedict saw that the officer was a woman. Not only that but a Nubian. “And you are?” Her voice was cold and not very sympathetic. The accent was one that Benedict had never heard before. Nor, come to think of it had he seen clothes like the ones she was wearing. Tunic and trousers all covered in an eye-deceiving pattern of red and gray squares, a thick and heavy-looking jacket colored the same way. There was much equipment carried by this officer, more than that carried by the Roman officers Benedict had seen during his life on Earth. Most frightening of all though were the things that covered her eyes. They were mirrors, ones that reflected the image of Benedict standing before her yet concealed her own expression completely. Combined with the impassive expression, Benedict had no idea of how or what she was feeling. One thing Benedict did understand, this human wasn't dead. Heaven was being invaded, the war machines parked in his village and those flying overhead proved that. Heaven had seen nothing like them before.

  “My name is Benedict. Since you have killed our Angel, I am in charge here.”

  “Hokay, then stop that damned wailing.”

  “I am sorry Sir, but our angel is dead. Without his protection and guidance, what shall we do?”

  “Try standing on your own feet.”

  Benedict almost wept with despair. He had hoped for sympathy, or at least that his need to carry on with the duties of reverence for The Almighty Lord would win some favor. But there was none to be found here. He looked closely at the officer and saw the signs of authority that had marked the Roman officers he had known long ago. “May we perform our rituals?”

  “Sure, this is your village, such as it is. You can do what you wish.” The voice changed slightly and some warmth crept into it. “You'd better get used to that. It's called being free. The days when Angels ruled this place are ending pretty damned soon. And you don’t have to do that reverencing stuff any more. Unless you really want to of course. Can't see what you would want to give thanks for though.”

  Benedict took offense at that and at the casual invocation of damnation. “We have much to be thankful for. We live in comfortable homes that are ours to keep. No soldiers come to burn them down in the night. We have our fields to tend and our crops to grow and they do not get trampled down or stolen. We have clothes to wear, all we need to eat and much more besides. We live our days in peace. Truly, is this not the Paradise we were promised?”

  Benedict waited to be struck down in the way that any who spoke to an officer o
f soldiers would have been struck down. Instead, she burst out laughing and started shaking her head.

  Spearhead Battalion, Third Armored Division, Heaven

  “Hokey, so this one has got guts. Some anyway.” Stephenson looked around at the cluster of hovels that surrounded her unit. She guessed that some hillbillies living in the back end of nowhere probably had worse living conditions but she couldn’t be sure of that. What she did know was that in any American town, these shanty homes would be condemned as a health and safety hazard. Nobody, but nobody, she knew had to live in conditions like this.

  “He's probably right Colonel. I'd guess this place does stack up pretty well against the conditions people had to live in two thousand years ago. Ever heard of the Lekker Lewe?” Stephenson shook her head. “Read about it in a book about the Zulu wars. The old Boer settlers had a lifestyle they called the Lekker Lewe, the sweet life. For them, the sweet life meant doing the minimum of work needed to provide them with a minimally comfortable lifestyle. Put a lot of emphasis on living in balance with the land. Bit like environmentalists I guess although most of the enviro's I know would go apeshit at the idea their ideas were upheld by a bunch of South African Boers. It was the sort of ideal the Boers clung to even when times changed and they lived a lot better than they ever could hen living the Lekker Lewe. I guess the same applies here; in comparison with living on the brink of starvation and always in danger of being looted or killed or both, this place doesn’t seem so bad. It's just that we are seeing it through different eyes. It's not just our weaponry that's changed, its our expectations of what constitutes a Heaven.”

  “Ain't that the truth Biker. Looks like our medic friends are about to catch up with us. Yo, Benedict. Any more angels around this way?”

  “No Sir. Our Haropamiel was all.”