Pantheocide tsw-2

by Stuart Slade

  “Well don’t let me stop you from amusing yourself.” Onniel stalked out and slammed the door behind her.

  Lemuel sighed and decided he had time to relax before the evening meal was served. He went to the pool that formed the centerpiece of his home and carefully immersed himself in it, swirling his wings through the limpid water so that his wing-feathers were washed clean. Now, if he was in Maion’s apartment, she would be in here with him, carefully combing his wings so that the feathers lay neatly and cleanly on each wing. As he relaxed in the gently-rippling water, once again Lemuel considered the possibility of bringing her back here. And, if Onniel didn’t like it, she could take care not to let the doors hit her rump on the way out.

  The servants who were waiting in the dining area were nervous and, on seeing the table, Lemuel could see why. The fruit was curling and stale, the sauce was crusted at the edge. The wine was warm to the touch instead of properly chilled. Lemuel took a deep breath and looked down at his domestic staff. They were quaking with fear now, knowing that the explosion for this apology for a meal was due.

  “There is an explanation for this?” Lemuel’s voice was quiet and tolerant. He suspected what the explanation was and he couldn’t blame the servants.

  The Ishim shuffled their feet, trying to come up with a story that wouldn’t cause problems. The humans said nothing, this was Angelic business and their job was just to serve. Lemuel waited for a few seconds, then looked again at the plates.

  “The meal was served earlier and this is what is left?” Again, his voice was quiet and reasonable.

  “Most Lordly Master, Her Ladyship demanded it so. And insisted that the remains be left on the table for you if you came home.” The Ishim cringed, awaiting the blast of anger that was rightfully due.

  Lemuel shook his head. This was an insult that would have driven many members of the Angelic Host into outrage. Onniel was taking advantage of his better nature in order to get away with abuse that would normally merit her receiving severe chastisement. “Clear these remains away. You were given your orders and obeyed them, as is your lot. The fault here lies elsewhere. But these are my orders as head of this household and they shall not be changed or disobeyed. No meals are to be served here except in my presence. The staff may eat of course when they wish but the formal meals of the household will be in my presence only. As I have spoken, so shall it be.”

  “Your words are our command Most Lordly Ophanim.” The Ishim genuflected and withdraw while the humans closed in to cleat the plates away.

  Lemuel-Lan nodded and left the room, heading for the main doors. As he went to leave the house, he saw Onniel watching him with a spiteful smile on her face. He gave no indication of her presence having registered on his awareness but he had already decided that his home lay elsewhere.

  Chapter Fifty One

  Super-Route One, The Highway To Hell, Al Tarmia, Iraq

  There had been a time when Super-Route One had been the primary logistics supply line for the forces deployed in Hell. Then, the highway had been backed up from Hellgate Alpha all the way to Al Tarmia, trucks moving nose-to-tail in convoy, mixed in with tank transporters and all the other vehicles that modern armies found indispensable. Those days had passed, now there were more than fifty permanent portals linking Earth and Hell with additional temporary portals being formed as necessary. That had taken the strain off Super-Route One and the traffic on the highway had accelerated accordingly. At long last, the great Oshkosh HEMTTs, the Russian Maz and their Chinese and European equivalents actually had a safer distance between them

  “What’s the cargo Sergeant?” Amy Seinfeld was a little nervous about asking the question. Not because of any security implications but from the fact that her Sergeant was Gerry Links, one of the heroes of the Tenth Mountain Division that had fought the daemons hand-to-hand at Hit. He’d been a private then, was a Sergeant now and was viewed with quiet awe by the rest of his unit.

  “Relief supplies for Haiti.” His eyes remained fixed on the road ahead. The traffic might have eased over the last year but it was still denser than any other road he’d driven on. “We’re taking them through Hell to a hellgate at Port-au-Prince Airport. Them poor folks need the stuff we got here bad.”

  “Saw it on the television last night. Everything in ruins, the daemons working to pull people out of the wrecks. They say Abigor himself went there to help with the rescue efforts.” Seinfeld stopped as Links grunted. “Must be odd for you Sarge, seeing them daemons helping us.”

  “They got guts, I’ll always give them that.” Links paused for a second, his memories of the Battle of Hit flooding back. “Even when we were hammering them with everything we had, they kept coming at us. They just didn’t stop. We had thirty-plus troops in the unit when the battle started, seven of us came out. They pushed us back. All the way through the town. Building by building, room by room. In the end, we were there, with our backs to the river, the bridge blown and nowhere left to go. If it hadn’t been for the hajjis with their truck bombs, we wouldn’t have held. They’d have torn us up on the river bank. But the hajjis blew themselves up right in the middle of the Baldrick groups and that bought us just enough time. We didn’t win at Hit, Seinfeld, they did.”

  There was silence in the truck cab, Seinfeld having the understanding to keep quiet and leave her Sergeant with his memories. Eventually he started speaking again, more to himself than to her. “So yeah, its strange to see them here on Earth helping us. But, they never pretended to be anything other than our enemies and when we beat them, they accepted that. And the average Baldricks, the little guys like us, they were as much victims of Satan as we were. Just like the Germans and the Japanese I guess. Now, they’re doing what they can to make it right. But them Angels, they pretended to be so good and noble and our saviors and all that. All the time they were sending us to Hell. Now, they’ve run off and hidden and just launch their beasts and weather storms at us. We’ve got a real score to settle with them.”

  “Yahweh.” There was a wealth of distaste in Seinfeld’s voice. “You reckon he was behind the Haiti Earthquake?”

  “Who knows? It’s the Angels style all right but there were some egg-heads on Discovery Channel a few nights ago said it was natural, just a fault moving or something. Might as well blame Yahweh for it though. If he didn’t do it, he’s done a whole load of other things just as bad he didn’t get blamed for so it’ll all even out. Bridge up ahead Seinfeld, get on the radio and warn the rest of the column.

  The great towers of the Al Tarmia Suspension Bridge were a mile or two ahead. This was another bottleneck in the Highway. Not from volume, the bridge had six lanes each way, just like the highway. It was weight that was the problem. The builders hadn’t taken into account the fact that all of the vehicles on this bridge would be heavily-laden military trucks mixed in with a large number of armored vehicle transports. So, the number of vehicles allowed on the bridge was restricted and the spacing between them carefully enforced. Sure enough, the traffic was slowing down as the bridge drew nearer. By the time Links had got up to the on-ramp, it was down to a barely-moving crawl so he was hardly surprised when it stopped completely.

  Whatever was crossing the bridge to cause the delay was outsize and overweight. Links could feel the vibration building up under his vehicle and saw the towers staring to sway. There was something wrong about what was happening, but he couldn’t quite work it out.

  Seinfeld was in no doubt though, she was from California and the movement of the ground was unmistakable. “Earthquake, a big one!” Her cry was desperate as she looked for a way to get to solid ground.

  That’s what was wrong. The Al Tarmia Bridge wasn’t really one bridge, it was two parallel bridges, one for each direction. Yet, they were swinging in perfect synchronization. That simply could not have been caused by the traffic, it had to be an earthquake. “Stay put Seinfeld, we’re better off in the trucks.”

  Ahead of the stalled traffic, the suspended roadways were writhin
g and arching as the tremors thrust them around. This was only the start for as Links watched, a roaring noise drowned out the sound of his truck’s diesel engine. The whole surface of the Euphrates River was arching upwards and formed a wave that struck the moving bridge to send a cloud of spray upwards. It flooded over the roadway, sweeping the trucks that had been unable to get off into the river. Then, the wave was past and was heading down south towards Baghdad. Incredibly the bridge was still standing, its motion slowly damping out as the water poured off it. Beneath it, the bed of the Euphrates was dry.

  “Radio from the traffic office Sarge. The bridge is closed while it’s checked for structural damage.”

  “Any word what caused that?” Links was still shaken by the suddenness and violence of the flood.

  Seinfeld spoke into the truck radio again. “A mass of boulders got dumped into the river quite a way north of here. Masses of rocks, hit the ground fast and hard, enough to cause a quake. Came from a portal high up. The Euphrates is dammed up as well, the rock pile goes on for miles. No water is getting through at all.”

  Links looked south. “Baghdad isn’t going to be too healthy when that wave hits it. Damn Yahweh.”

  Human Expeditionary Army Command Headquarters, Hell

  “Well, that was the Sixth Bowl.” General of the Armies David Petraeus looked at the members of his staff meeting.

  “Tells us what the Seventh will be as well.” General Michael Jackson wasn’t happy at the news. One of the supply lines the HEA depended on had just been cut. As Petraeus’s Chief of Staff, he was responsible for making sure his General didn’t have to worry about supplies getting through to the front-line units. “Rocks from a portal high up dumped on a city. Question is, which one?”

  “According to my mythology-wonks, the target will be ‘Babylon’. The problem is, ‘Babylon’ is taken to mean the seat of sin and depravity. I suppose by biblical standards that could mean any large modern city.” Richard O’Shea thought for a second. “How about Bangkok, Khunying General Asanee?”

  Major General Asanee eyed O’Shea, primarily to try and guess whether he was serious or just trying to goad her. She’d always had a problem telling when Europeans were joking and when they were being serious. Eventually she’d adopted a policy of assuming they were the latter unless people started laughing before she said anything. Applying it now could be a good idea. “It is quite possible. Bangkok is certainly Sin City by the standards of your bible. Only, we are not the head of any great empire and we are of regional importance only. Also, my city is built on sediment and it may absorb the blows. Tokyo, however, that is different. The Seventh Bowl falling there will be devastating. It might cause another great earthquake. That is part of the legend also is it not.” She looked at O’Shea again and raised an eyebrow.

  “It is. Revelation 16:17-21 says Then the seventh angel poured out his bowl upon the air, and a loud voice came out of the temple from the throne, saying, “It is done.” And there were flashes of lightning and sounds and peals of thunder; and there was a great earthquake, such as there had not been since man came to be upon the earth, so great an earthquake was it, and so mighty. The great city was split into three parts, and the cities of the nations fell. Babylon the great was remembered before God, to give her the cup of the wine of His fierce wrath. And every island fled away, and the mountains were not found. And huge hailstones, about one hundred pounds each, came down from heaven upon men; and men blasphemed God because of the plague of the hail, because its plague was extremely severe. ”

  “Could be Tokyo. One of the original Heralds was killed there so that would fit.”

  “It’s not a center of sin and depravity though. Although given their treatment of real estate values, they could be called that.” Petraeus looked around the group.

  “I wouldn’t say that. Have you looked at the Japanese internet porn sites?”

  “I have not. Why have you?” Asanee looked dourly at the aide who had spoken and was secretly delighted to see him flush red.

  “Tokyo sounds possible, I suppose New York and San Francisco are as well. And New Orleans. Michael, please get the staff to put a list of possible targets together and make up plans for relief efforts. If Yahweh does dump rocks on cities, it could be every bit as bad as Belial’s lava attacks. More so, the lava poured over a single point and spread from there. A rock attack could cover a wide area. O’Shea, give General Jackson all the help you can.

  “Organizationally, I’ve got good news. First, Second and Third Army Groups are all up to strength at last. Michael, the Commonwealth has done superbly to raise a whole Army. A magnificent effort. Now, I’m making a slight modification to the organization, now the field units are complete, I’ll be adding an extra corps to each Army group, attached directly to the Army Group Command HQ. Khunying Asanee, I’m detaching the Thai Corps from Fourth Army Group and making it the Headquarters Reserve Corps for First Army Group. Your people are the only ones with real experience in portal warfare and I want them as close to the front line as possible. Fourth Army Group has been reinforced by the addition of North Korean troops and that brings it up to nominal strength. I propose to use them as the Army reserve. Fifth Army Group is still a mess though, if they don’t get their act together I’ll treat them as cadre replacements. I’m detaching the German Corps from them as HQ Reserve Corps for Second Army Group.”

  “The Russians are going to love having a German unit as their Group reserve.” Michael Jackson was amused at the concept. Almost seventy years after the end of the Great Patriotic War, the Russians still distrusted the Germans.

  “They’ll get used to it. Anyway, as soon as Heaven opens up, the H.E.A. is ready to go.”

  “You think that is close Khun David?”

  “I do, we’re close to the end of the Bowls of Wrath and that’s the softening up process. I expect us to be hit by an Angelic Host shortly afterwards. Wherever they land, we’ll portal in around them. My preferred plan is to open up three portals and put an Army Group through each. There are many variations to that of course but the basis of them all is that we go for the big kill again. And one thing has been made clear. I’ve had word from our political masters at Yamantau. Once any Angelic invasion of Earth has been defeated, we go straight to an invasion of Heaven. For that assault, nuclear weapons are free. Once we’re in Heaven, I can order them used at my discretion.”

  There was a subtle intake of breath around the table. “Other weapons of mass destruction?” Jackson sounded awed by the clearance.

  “Them too. Chemical, biological, you name it. All weapons are free, we can use them as we deem fit. Our primary responsibility is to reduce human casualties to a minimum.”

  “And stop Caesar recruiting all our deceased veterans?” Asanee spoke the words but the thought was in everybody’s mind. The New Roman Republic was showing remarkable zeal in recruiting Second-Life humans with modern military experience.

  “I think so. By the way, Caesar has offered us a Legion and we’ve taken him up on it. It’s basically a light mechanized brigade, a mixture of Second-Life humans and daemons. I thought you might like it as Commonwealth Army reserve Michael.”

  “Thank you David. That’ll will be… interesting.” Jackson paused for a second. “What about the Papal Divisions?”

  “They’re with us, again they’re really light mechanized brigades and I plan to use them as Army HQ reserve units.” Petraeus sighed. “You know, I am never going to get used to having an Archbishop as a brigade commander.”

  Throne Room, The Ultimate Temple, Eternal City, Heaven

  The Divine Audience looked nervously at Michael-Lan as he entered the great Audience Chamber. The more astute tried to read his expression, to see if the news he carried would throw Yahweh into a tantrum or leave him mellow. Those who had decided that discretion was the better part of valor were already buying their tickets for the Mason’s bunker. The foolhardy had taken heart from the recent good news and were watching from good, though exp
osed, positions on the floor. Michael-Lan reflected on what he would do if he was waiting here and didn’t know what news was being brought. I would buy a bunker ticket, he thought if we fight the humans face-to face, there is no way it will end well for us.

  He strode into the hall, making his way through the clouds of incense smoke that roiled around him, his footsteps interrupting the rhythmic chanting of the Great Choir. Then, he was approaching the Immaculate Throne and he prostrated himself before The One Above All, kissing the jade floor with his scarred lips. “Oh Eternal Father Of Us All, Whose Unspeakable Acts Are Always At The Forefront Of Our Minds, I bring news of the war against the humans.” Michael sneaked a look at Yahweh and then at the rest of the audience. One of the Chayot Ha Kodesh, Azrael, was frowning slightly at the address, probably because he had worked out it wasn’t quire as respectful as it had sounded. That didn’t worry Michael, he had spent days studying the reports from Lemuel and the interrogations of the Angels arrested in the purge and had come to the amusing conclusion that Azrael, along with every single member of Yahweh’s upper-echelon command staff, was also conspiring against The Unspeakable One. To Michael-Lan this was an eminently satisfactory state of affairs. Isolating Yahweh and leaving him without any form of support had always been his primary objective. It was becoming apparent that at least half his work had been done for him.

  “Speak, mightiest and most beloved of My generals.” The Peerless Voice boomed out across the attendance hall.

  “Oh Mightiest Star In The Heavens, I have good news to report. The fifth and sixth Bowls of Wrath have been poured. The darkness at noon envelopes the humans, causing them to choke on their blasphemy and chew their tongues with pain. Their crops are destroyed and starvation stalks their land. The mighty river Euphrates has ceased to flow and its bed bakes dry in the noonday sun. Soon, the Seventh and last bowl will be poured and the misery and anguish of the humans will be complete.” Well, actually they will be screaming mad with anger and demanding your head on a plate, probably with an apple stuffed in its mouth. Then, they’ll be coming to get it.