The Salvation War 2: Pantheocide

by Slade, Stuart

  “They'll be there. Dorokov is flying in on a Mi-24. I don't know how Ti plans to arrive.”

  The pitch from the V-22's engines changed as the aircraft transitioned from horizontal to vertical flight. The pilot was bringing the aircraft in to land on a large open area at the top of the steps leading up to Yahweh's palace. Those steps were too large for humans to climb comfortably. Anyway, bringing an aircraft in made a very unsubtle point. Asanee looked at the lake, its shimmering royal blue now criss-crossed with wakes from ships, AAV-7s and LCACs. It was an impressive sight. Then, there was a gentle bump as the V-22 landed.

  The tail ramp dropped down and General Petraeus led the way out. As he emerged, a Marine Corps band struck up a long-familiar tune. It was the words that were slightly strange.

  When the Army and the Navy

  Finally gazed on Heaven's scenes

  They found the streets were guarded by

  United States Marines.

  Chapter Eighty Two

  Throne Room, The Ultimate Temple, The Eternal City, Heaven.

  “This place is a disgrace.” General Ivan Semenovich Dorokhov looked around in barely-veiled disgust. The command group from the Human Expeditionary Army had assembled outside what had one been Yahweh's palace and entered the anteroom. The building was in a serious state of decay, one only partially concealed by the glittering arrays of precious stones. General Dorokhov looked at the iridescent displays with curiosity. “Has the matter of reparations been discussed yet?”

  “The Yamantau Council are still evaluating the matter.” General Petraeus was also surveying the scene that was unfolding before his party. “I believe they have yet to come to a conclusion. The last thing I heard from them was that reparations were required but how they were to be paid is entirely another matter. Who should pay them is also interesting. Yahweh is undoubtedly the responsible party but he is dead. The rest of the angels seem to be as much of his victims as we were. We all saw that concentration camp.”

  General Ti Jen-chieh was also inspecting the walls. “I wonder how many peasants and workers died on how many worlds to fill this room with stones.” His words were met with a series of nods. Even a cursory inspection of The Eternal City revealed that far more than a single world had been looted to provide the ever-present displays of gleaming gems.

  “And what happened to them after death?” General Asanee was more interested in the carving of the woodwork. Her family were carpenters and sculptors who worked in wood and the craftsmanship in the carving interested her. Personally, and admitting to herself that she might be biased in the subject, she thought the carvings were inferior to the ones her brothers produced. The rifle she was carrying was an example of their work. Technically it was an M16A6 chambered for .50 Beowulf but the plastic furniture had been replaced by painstakingly-carved and polished mahogany. It was a superbly elegant weapon.

  “That, we should find out. If there is still access to such worlds, then we should go there.” General Ti's voice rang with conviction. “Surely if such people survive, we must help remedy the terrible wrongs that have been done to them.”

  “If such people survive.” Asanee noted the qualification. “I suspect we will find that they are extinct and all we can do is honor their memory. As we would have been extinct had our arms not prevailed.” She was saddened by that thought. For all humanity's devastating victory in The Salvation War, it had been a closer-run thing than people realized. Had it come just a century earlier, she doubted humanity would have prevailed. Even coming when it did, the balance had been fine indeed. Had the human armies run out of ammunition during the Curbstomp War or if Heaven had followed up with an invasion immediately after the fall of Hell, things might have been different. She shook her head and noted with amusement that the senior generals all around her had fallen into step. Old habits died hard. The sight also amused her on another level; once she had been in command of the guard when a deputation of six senior generals had been visiting the King. Unused to the demands of close order drill, when the order ‘face left’ had been given, two of the six had faced right. She'd never said anything but simply given every member of the guard an extra 48 hour leave pass for not bursting out laughing.

  The doors were flung open in front of them and the command group stalked through them into the throne room beyond. The ritual was familiar and Asanee decided that General Petraeus had been watching when her people performed similar maneuvers. Ahead of them, in the dim, smoke-tinged room, the shadowed figures of angels were kneeling on the floor, waiting for word from the new masters of the Eternal City.

  Even in the dim light it was easy to see the destruction that the battle in this room had wrought. Piles of rubble were strewn across the floor, each giving birth to small clouds of dust as the synchronized human footsteps echoed around the room. The walls and ceiling were blackened and stained, great scabs of plaster had been detached and the precious stones that had formed the signature décor of the Eternal City were blasted from their places and charred black. Asanee noted the heavy bunker built unobtrusively in one corner of the great room. By its dimensions and general design, she got the feeling somebody had looked at the bunkers that formed part of the Maginot Line.

  “Who are you?” Petraeus's voice pierced the gloom and the pent-up tension in the air. His words were clearly aimed at the five figures sitting on a raised dais at one end of the room. It was a curious structure, truncated somehow as if its top had been cut off.

  “I am Michael-Lan. Ruler of the Eternal City.” The largest and most beautiful of the angels on the dais answered. Even in the dim light, the angel's face seemed to glow with beauty.

  “Not any more.” Petraeus snapped the words out, determined not to be impressed by the sights around him or the person he was addressing. “And the others?”

  “Gabriel-Lan, Raphael-Lan, Charmeine-Lan and Leilah-Lan. All Chayot Ha Kodesh of the Angelic Host. We, all of us, together with the support of much of the population of the City, deposed Yahweh. With the exception of Yahweh himself, the coup was bloodless.”

  Petraeus nodded. “Our ruling council has considered your position carefully. I am under orders to advise you that you are to be removed as ruler of Heaven and replaced by another whom I have been authorized to appoint. I am also required to advise you that you are to be held in custody pending our investigations into the nuclear attack on Tel Aviv and the attempted destruction of other cities on Earth.”

  He saw Michael-Lan nod. “As to the nuclear attacks on your cities, that was not my doing. You took down Napyidaw yourselves; I had no idea there was such a weapon hidden on that cart. I just guessed it was something I should be far away from. As for the others, they were the work of Azrael who was trying to curry favor with Yahweh. He was critically injured in the attack on New York and is being treated in my country estate. For removing me from power, I thank you. The burdens of rule are onerous and its costs are great. All I ever wanted was to run my nightclub in peace. Even to achieve that simple goal, Yahweh had to go... “

  He was interrupted by a massive road as a huge section of battered wall detached and crashed down. A choking cloud of dust filled the room, stifling any further attempts at conversation until it settled. As it did so, Petraeus saw an angel shake himself clear of the debris, re-assemble his workers and start to clear the floor again. “And who are you?”

  The dust-ridden figure shook himself to free some of the plaster grit from his wing-feathers. “I am Zacharael-Lan, Master-Mason of the Ultimate Temple.”

  “And just what do you think you are doing?”

  “I am trying to get this room repaired from the damage Yahweh caused... ” The Master Mason hesitated, uncertain of the form of address to use. In the end he decided to keep going. “He always wrecked the place when he had a temper tantrum but I've never seen it this bad.”

  “Why are you fixing this place? Yahweh's dead.”

  “Somebody must rule. Whoever does, it is my duty to repair this place. Duty done we
ll is it's own reward.”

  Petraeus glanced around at the other Generals with him and got tiny nods in response. “More reward than you think. I'm putting you in charge of Heaven for the meantime. How long you stay there depends on you. Just remember, when we say jump, the correct reply is not ‘how high?’ It's ‘may I come down now please?” He looked at the existing occupants of the dais and jerked his thumb at the doors. “You other five, out. Wait for us in the anteroom.”

  The five Chayot Ha Kodesh rose and left. Petraeus watched them leave, then returned his attention to Zacharael-Lan. “Pick out some people to help you rule this place. Subject to our approval of course. Asanee, I want you to stay here. You're probably the most familiar with this kind of situation of any of us. I'll assign you some additional staff and you report directly to me. Stay in the background but watch Zacharael-Lan carefully.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Asanee hesitated for a brief second. “David, you picked him just to annoy the Freemason's Conspiracy nuts didn't you?”

  Petraeus permitted himself a small grin. “Well, that might have had something to do with it. But that crash of masonry was all too convenient from his point of view. I think we ought to keep our Master Mason out where we can watch him very carefully.”

  Anteroom, The Ultimate Temple, The Eternal City, Heaven.

  “I'm so sorry Michael.” Charmeine was distressed almost to the point where her tears broke through her carefully-cultivated reserve. “I never thought the humans would throw you out after all you did.”

  “I did.” Michael-Lan spoke cheerfully. “Well, I guessed it was a fifty-fifty chance they would. Them putting Abigor in power down in Hell showed they wanted one of us to rule up here. The question was, who? I hoped it would be me but only a fool substitutes hope for preparation. Remember that people, when planning, don’t forget to allow for a possibility even if it's unpalatable. So if it wasn't going to be me, it would be best, it had to be somebody I approved of. The four of you were out, you're too close to me. Zacharael-Lan was perfect. So, he arranged that collapse and the statement about duty and doing a job well. That human General didn’t know who to choose so it only required that little to push him the right way.”

  “Suppose he had picked somebody else?” Leilah was keen to learn.

  “Then we would have made the transition from Yahweh's rule to whatever comes next as hard and as messy as possible. We'd have made sure whoever was in charge got all the blame and in the end one of us would have come in as a savior and put everything right.” Michael glanced over his shoulder. “They're coming, everybody look penitent.”

  “Michael-Lan. You say you have an estate out in the countryside?” General Petraeus wasn't in any doubt about that.

  “I do.”

  “Take me there. I wish to see this Azrael you mentioned.”

  “Would you like me to carry you? It would be no burden.”

  “You lead the way, We'll follow you in the Osprey. Once there, you stay there until we've finished sorting your case out.”

  “My nightclub.” There was genuine pain and anguish in Michael's voice. “I have to run my nightclub.”

  “Sucks to be you. The same applies to the rest of you. Go to your country estates, stay there. Consider yourselves exiled from The Eternal City until we say otherwise.”

  “Sir.” Leilah spoke diffidently, something quite at odds with the costume she was wearing. “I don’t have a country estate.”

  “Leilah is only recently raised to the status of Chayot Ha Kodesh,” Michael explained. “She was Erelim before and only Chayot Ha Kodesh have country estates. Because of how fast things have happened, her estate was never awarded to her.”

  Petraeus nodded. “Leilah, you run Michael's nightclub for him. You are allowed to fly to his estate to consult with him on doing that. You may also fly to the others here to meet with them. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir. And thank you.”

  “Is that wise David?” General Ti spoke very quietly.

  “Somebody will be carrying messages, we might as well know who.”

  Michael's Palace, Aukumea, Heaven

  The palace reminded Petraeus of a Greek temple. It was large of course, scaled to Michael's size, but it was pristine white. It was unmarred by the displays of precious stones that were already becoming tasteless and jaded to Petraeus's eyes. Just a large, perfectly-proportioned and perfectly-maintained Greek temple. It was, Patraeus reflected, the first really elegant building he had seen in Heaven. As his V-22 came in to land on the green lawns, he saw the staff running out to welcome Michael home. To his surprise, the humans seemed as enthusiastic as the angels.

  “Welcome to Aukumea, General.” The accent was distinctively American.

  “And you are?”

  “Doctor David Gunn. Michael's personal physician.”

  “That name is familiar.”

  “I was killed a few years back. Shot outside a women's health clinic. My nurses here, Lee-Ann Nichols and Shannon Lowney were also killed in health clinic shootings. Michael rescued us from Hell and brought us here. Michael says you want to see Azrael?”

  “Yes, please.” Petraeus hesitated, then spoke awkwardly. “Doctor Gunn, it's good to know things worked out all right for you three in the end.”

  “Thanks to Michael, yes. And not just for us. In the years before the war started, he spent a lot of his time rescuing humans from Hell. Took a lot of risks doing it as well. Anyway, come with me and I'll show you the patients.”

  Damn, that's just what we needed. Petraeus thought. Michael turning out to be some sort of Heavenly Schindler. The silver-blooded Pimpernel already. “Doctor, what's the mound over there?”

  Gunn laughed. “That is, or rather was, Fluffy. Better known to you as the Scarlet Beast. Disgusting creature, never was properly house-trained. His rider is here as well, very sad case I'm afraid.”

  “So it is dead. We didn’t know back on Earth. We knew we'd hurt it, that was all. And we were still waiting for the Lamb Beast and the Dragon.”

  Gunn's laughter redoubled. “You hadn't worked it out then. The Lamb Beast, speaks with the gentleness of a lamb but fights like a dragon? That's Michael. And the ultra-powerful Dragon is, or was, Yahweh himself.”

  “Doctor, honest question from a soldier to a physician. Where do you stand in all this.”

  “I'm a doctor, I fix the wounded and sick. If you have any, feel free to bring them to me. Michael saved me from Hell, saved my nurses and every human I know up here. And he's a likeable guy, arrogant as they come of course and conceited like only an angel can be. But he has a lot of charisma and he inspires loyalty in people. Don't know why because the truth is, he doesn’t return it. But, he does inspire it. But for all that, I'm human. A doctor first and then human. That answer your question?”

  Petraeus wasn't sure that he did but he nodded anyway.

  Gunn opened a door and led him into a clean, aseptic wing of the palace. On one bed was a figure, one that had a glorious mane of red hair spread out around her. She would have been as stunningly beautiful as the rest of the angels were it not for the vacant expression on her face and the tongue hanging out of her mouth. “This is Dumah, General. She rode the Scarlet Beast. I don’t know what you did to her down there but she has massive brain damage. Vital functions are stable, but her coma is probably irrecoverable. Michael is having me look after her until she either dies or recovers.”

  He led Petraeus to another room. “This is Azrael. Massive fragmentation wounds from missile warheads, recovery very slow. He doesn't know Yahweh is dead yet. Azrael, a human visitor for you.”

  “Azrael, the nuclear attacks on our cities.”

  The voice from the wounded angel was slow and gasping. “So? We are at war.”

  “You organized them? Did Michael know?”

  “Know? Him? Of course not. He is a traitor. He refused to push the war home against you. It was left to me. If my plan had worked, I could have replaced him. My human failed me. But Michael be
trayed Yahweh and me.” Azrael burst into a fit of coughing. “Leave me human, you tire me.”

  Chapter Eighty Three

  Michael's Palace, Aukumea, Heaven. Six weeks later.

  The problem with staging a coup is what does one do afterwards? After centuries of plotting and planning, not to mention the last three years of frantic activity, the work was over. Yahweh was gone, a new leadership was in power, the war with the humans was over and the Angelic Host had survived. More than survived, if the experience of the last few days was anything to go by, it would prosper under its new rulers. The problem was that the situation had left Michael-Lan nothing to do. How much of a problem that was had become obvious when, in the half-aware period between sleep and wakening, he had started to plot against himself.

  The humans had made it worse for him. Aukumea might still be described as his palace but the truth was he was imprisoned here. Just as the rest of his inner circle were imprisoned on their estates. Only Leilah had anything like freedom of movement and Michael knew she was being very carefully watched. The truth was, and Michael knew it very well, that the humans hadn't decided what to do with him. His position as a defeated General was well-established and his links to the more atrocious of his acts had all been carefully severed or buried. Mostly both. If the humans ever found the bottom of the lake by Yahweh's Palace, they would discover things down there that Michael wanted kept secret. On the other hand, his credentials as a benefactor were well-established and carefully over-elaborated. He had saved humans from torment, well-regarded ones whose reputation back on Earth had survived and rubbed off on the Archangel who had saved them from the flames of Hell. He had treated all his humans well and they had reciprocated by speaking well of him when they had been interviewed. What would happen next was out of his control and Michael suspected the humans would be driven more by their own internal political dynamics than any wishes he might have.