Pantheocide

by Stuart Slade

“I did, you didn’t.” Allansen was grinning all over his face at the confusion on Mickey Jennings’ face.

  “Sorry?”

  “The ABL program is on again, funding was restored by executive order last night. Your transfer has been countermanded, you’ll be staying with the 417th. In fact, we should be getting two new birds as soon as they can be assembled. One of them will be yours.”

  “Hey that’s great.” Jennings paused. “What is going on?”

  “Uriel.”

  “I thought he was down somewhere in Southern California?”

  “He is. And the Volunteers are closing in on him. But if he gets out or if Heaven turns out to have more like him, then it’ll be the job of the 417th to hunt him, or them down, and kill him. The Big Brass think our laser will be just the job to slice and dice him.”

  “So the whole program will go splat again as soon as Uriel’s dead or there aren’t any more of him?” Unspoken was Jennings’ thought that he’d prefer being in a bomber.

  “Not from what I hear.” Allansen looked around and dropped his voice. “From what the wind says, the really big brass at Yamantau have decided that these so-called gods are more trouble than they’re worth. After we’ve dealt with Yahweh, we’re going hunting for the rest of them. If they want to live peacefully with us, fine. If they want to throw their weight around… . .” Allansen pointed at the laser in the nose of the YAL-1A.

  “It’ll be slice and dice time – again.”

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Yangon, Myanmar

  This was, on consideration, more impressive that the entry of allied forces into Paris in 1944. The liberation of Paris and that of Yangon sixty five years later had many things in similar/ They included the population surging around the tanks and armored personnel carriers, slowing their progress to a crawl while they wound flowers around the gun barrels. The local girls hugging and kissing the soldiers, then riding on the tanks as they made their slow, stately progress down the road. Other occupants of the liberated city throwing gifts to the troops. All those things were shared by the liberation of Paris and Yangon. Only, the liberation of Paris had not had elephants. The liberation of Yangon did. Four of the great beasts were leading the column of armored vehicles down the long road that ended up at the great Schwedagon Pagoda. Already the spire of the temple was jutting into the sky in front of them.

  That reminded Senior Colonel Mahindra of another sight that the liberators of Paris would have found remarkable. Down each side of his regimental column were arrayed ranks of saffron-robed Buddhist monks, their alms bowls turned triumphantly right side up. Most of them had emerged from the safe houses where they had been in hiding since the failed Saffron Revolution two years before to walk beside the tanks, giving the M-41s the aura of a divine crusade. The few monks that hadn’t been forced into hiding had made their rounds with their alms bowls turned face-down, implying that the favor of the gods had been withdrawn from the country. Now, they too had their bowls turned right side up.

  “Any trouble?” The radio crackled with static but the contralto voice was unmistakeable.

  “No ma’am. We came out of the portal at Mingaladon Airport, formed up and drove straight in. No trouble at all, except the number of flowers on my tank are giving me hay fever.”

  There was a snort of laughter on the other end of the radio. “If that’s your only problem, I’ll have to try and find you some more. That might be difficult.”

  “No problems here ma’am. The only fighting going on is the local population hunting down the white-shirts.” The white-shirts were the members of the USDA, the Union Solidarity and Development Association whose uniform was a white shirt and green pants. They’d been named the white-shirts in deliberate reference to Hitlers brown-shirted SA and fulfilled much the same function. Street thugs whose sole role was to beat down any opposition. They’d done that with enthusiasm but now the boot was on the other foot and those that could run were doing so. A lot hadn’t made it, the mobs after their blood had cornered and killed them. The lucky ones had been lynched, the less fortunate had died bloodier deaths. All too often with their families beside them. Payback was a bitch.

  “What are your people doing about that? Other than collecting garlands of flowers.”

  “I have my armored cars patrolling the cities, if they see any fighting, they break it up and take the USDA people into custody. We’re holding them at the Inwa Hall, temporarily at least. We could use some help there, my people aren’t policemen.”

  “I’ll get some White Mice down to you as soon as I have some available. Until then, do the best you can. And take care Colonel, we’re lucky we didn’t have to fight our way into the city but things can still go sour. Also, be advised Third of First is crossing the Aung Zaya Bridge, that’ll put them behind you covering your rear. First of First is crossing over from Syriam, that puts them on the other side of the Nga Moe Yake river. There shouldn’t be conflict but be aware of blue-on-blue.”

  “Yes Ma’am.” Mahindra thought for a moment. “May I ask, where do we go from here?”

  “North towards Naypyidaw of course. But we need to regroup and re-organize before pushing into Northern Myanmar. We’re all over the place at the moment.” There was a brief pause. “There’s no serious opposition anywhere, we’re just rolling through. The Myanmar Army is collapsing like a house of cards. Be advised, the invasion force they sent into our territory has surrendered to the Ninth Infantry. For all that, don’t drop your guard and don’t let your people do that. I’ll have more movement orders for you in 36 hours. Until then, make sure Yangon is secured.”

  Command Complex, Naypyidaw, Myanmar

  “We need help, we need it now. This war was Michael’s idea.” Senior General Than Shwe was furious. He might not be the ideal general as envisaged by the profession of arms. In fact, most competent generals regarded him as a semi-trained butcher rather than a military officer. That being said, he had enough military knowledge to recognize a disaster as it unfolded around his ears. Almost superstitiously he touched his ears as the thought occurred to him. He didn’t want them decorating the Thai general’s key chain.

  Gabriel looked disparagingly at the human. “You were keen enough to launch the attack when it was suggested. No hesitation at all as far as I can remember. And you were pleased enough when it looked like you were winning.” And you were very quick to follow Michael’s suggestion. Now, Kim Jong-Il, he’s being much more cautious.

  “Michael told us that all the Thai troops were in Hell and that the border was weakly-guarded.” Than Shwe looked at the map on the wall. In some ways, his lack of conventional military experience was a minor assistance in trying to understand what was happening to his country. A trained, competent staff officer would have expected to see a situation chart that looked like a tide flowing over the border, reaching into the Myanmar heartland, fingers advancing where resistance was weakest, being held back where the defenses were holding out. The problem was, the rules had been changed out of all recognition. Instead of a tide, the map was covered with spots, apparently isolated but in fact connected by links that led back to Hell. Each spot would appear and then spread outwards until it joined up with the others. Conventional defenses were pointless. Set up a defense around one area and the spots would appear all around it, isolating it and leaving it to wither. Looking at the map, Than Shwe guessed that it would not be long before those spots started to appear around Naypyidaw.

  “And it was. Your troops advanced far in the first few days.”

  “Against border guards. If that was all, we would still be there. But the Thai had regular forces and deployed them quickly.”

  Actually, it appears they brought them in from Hell. Which means that the human commander must have realized that Heaven’s fingers were behind this whole affair. With shock, Gabriel realized that Michael-Lan had been out-thought on this one. The whole idea of these human wars was to force human countries to bring back their armies and split up their alliance
. Instead, the human had recognized the gambit and used elements of his army to destroy this invasion. In doing so he had convinced all the governments whose troops formed part of the human army in Hell that if they faced trouble, they wouldn’t just have their own army to protect them, they’d have everybodies. So the human alliance was stronger, not weaker. Damn the humans. They were good at this.

  “What would you have Michael do?” The question was asked gently.

  “Support us. Send us aid, troops, equipment. We are loyal to Michael, it is time for him to be loyal to us.”

  “We cannot, will not, fight a human army head-on. Not yet. They must be weakened first. You must do the best you can.” Stupid people. Believing your loyalty to the Angelic Host is enough to win our loyalty to you. Our loyalty is to ourselves, you do not merit it. You are servants for us, nothing more. Gabriel swept his wings forward and strode from the room. He had to make a trip to Korea and find out just why Kim Jong-Il wasn’t moving.”

  Suwon Palace, North Korea

  “Four months! You’ve been moving troops around for four months! Just when are you going to move south.” Gabriel-Lan hammered his fist on to the table.

  Kim Jong-Un didn’t even blink. “And what do you know about mechanized warfare? How many armored units have you commanded in the field?” Gabriel jerked back slightly, not expecting the response. He opened his mouth to reply but the Korean cut him off. “That’s right, none. So how dare you tell us what we need to do and when we should move.”

  “But… .”

  “But me no buts. We have 15 armored divisions and the same number of mechanized units to move to assault positions, almost fifty infantry divisions to do the same with. Three and a half thousand tanks, same number of infantry combat vehicles, seventeen and a half thousand guns to move. Do you think any of that is easy? Each of those units has to have a supply line. Do you know how many tons of supplies a tank division needs per day? Or a mechanized division? Or an artillery division? Those supply lines can’t cross because if they do, the traffic jams will ensure nobody gets any supplies. Amateurs talk tactics Gabriel, professionals talk logistics. Launching an assault of this size takes months of preparation. We’re professionals, keep out of our way and leave us to do our work.”

  Gabriel’s jaw was dropping with the sheer impertinence of the human who was lecturing him. “I have seen your movements. They have no objective. This unit here.” He tapped the symbol for an armored division. “Moved east three weeks ago and then moved back last week. To the same place it originally occupied.”

  “Of course it did. We had to move it to clear a supply line to the division here.” Kim put his finger on the map. “And to do that, we had to put that division, the 324th Tank, somewhere where it could be supported while the line was established. And then when that was done we moved it back. I’ll say this again, Gabriel, and you can tell your master the same. We’re the experts at handling armies, don’t tell us how to do our job and we won’t tell you how to play harps and sing praises. Or perhaps your Michael would prefer to see those three and a half thousand tanks and seventeen thousand guns joining the Human Expeditionary Army. Now, I have work to do. You are dismissed.”

  Gabriel nearly passed out with shock and by the time he had recovered, Kim had stomped out of the room. The archangel had nothing left to do but leave quietly.

  In the next room, Kim Jong-il laughed weakly and wiped his eyes. “I did well choosing you my son. To send that angel running away with his tail between his legs, that was a sight to cheer my old age. ‘You are dismissed.’ I’ll bet he has never been told that by a human before. Now, what are we doing.”

  “The angel put his finger on it father. We are just shuffling units around, moving them backwards and forwards. Using activity as a substitute for achievement. We could launch the great attack tomorrow, if we were as foolish as those idiots in Myanmar. We won’t of course. Instead, I think we should join the Human Expeditionary Army.”

  “Why?”

  “Two reasons. One is that if we do otherwise, we will become a meaningless footnote to history. Myanmar has shown that Hell gives the HEA a commanding position on Earth. They can strike anywhere they can open a portal and they can open portals anywhere. They are the dominant force on Earth now, whether they realize that or not. And secondly, father, so sorry but you have not got many weeks left. When you die, you will go to Hell. Your status there as the donor of our Army for the greater good will be much greater than that of the man who kept our Army out.”

  “You are wise beyond your years. We will do as you say.”

  HQ, Third Corps, Third Army, Fourth Army Group, Human Expeditionary Army

  General Asanee put down the speaker and glanced around the headquarters unit. It had direct video-links with both the headquarters of Fourth Army Group and the HEA command itself. The former was barely used, it was almost irrelevant in this sideshow. She used it to keep General Thimayya informed on what a part of his Army Group was doing. To all intents and purposes, she had an independent command here on Earth, answerable only to General Petraeus. That was a command link she used much more often. The link was open now, and ready for her to use.

  “General, Sir. It’s my great pleasure to advise you that our troops are securing Yangon. No significant resistance except for the local population taking overdue vengeance on the white-shirts. I anticipate a hold of 36 hours while we regroup and get ready to push north. Oh, one of our recon teams has rescued Aung San Suu Kyi, there was some fear that the junta may have her killed so we pre-empted it. She’s in our hands now, receiving medical treatment.”

  “Very good General. Aung San Suu Kyi will make a good candidate for a new leader. Carry on with your preparations for moving north but do not launch the attack. Not yet anyway. We’ve had word from Than Shwe that they wish to discuss a ceasefire and are asking for terms.”

  “What do they offer Sir?”

  “Their primary demand seems to be that you don’t take Naypyidaw. Than Shwe seems to believe you want his ears. They also want a refuge in a third country, enough money to live in luxury, usual things for deposed dictators. In exchange, they’re offering full information on their relationships with Heaven and their trade with various Heavenly figures. We’re hoping what they tell us will help crack open a way into Heaven.”

  “Very good Sir. I’ll instruct our units to regroup and get ready to move but await further orders before doing anything other than defend themselves.”

  Interrogation Room, DIMO(N) Field Facility, Fort Bragg, North Carolina

  How had they missed her? Agent-In-Charge Sith was both relieved that the leak, or at least one of them, inside the DIMO(N) facility had been found but embarrassed that so obvious a security breach had taken so long to spot. It was her clothes that should have given her away, the loose blouse buttoned up around her neck, the long skirt. A young woman these days simply did not dress that way unless she had some specific reason, like particular kinds of religious belief. That wasn’t why she had become a suspect. She’d been trapped by the oldest of all investigative techniques, information leaked to various people with subtle differences that identified the recipients. Then, when the net had started to close, everything else had dropped into place. A fundamentalist family, a preacher for a father, it had all made sense.

  “Hey Kamikaze, we’ve got some help with the interrogation.” Sith lifted up his eyebrows. The nickname had come from a time long ago when he was a newly-qualified agent and the Bureau had staged a raid on a bar that had been identified as the headquarters of a multi-state drug smuggling ring. For some reason unknown even to himself, he’d tied a Japanese hachimaki around his forehead before the team had broken in. Whatever the reason, the name had stuck. “Lugasharmanaska, this is Agent-in-Charge ‘Kamizaze’ Sith. The suspect is the interrogation room.”

  “Pleased to meet you Luga. I enjoy your television show. Is it true nobody can lie to a succubus?”

  Luga laughed and shook her head. “That was
thought up by the show publicists.”

  “Oh well, I guess the powers that be think your pheremones will get us some co-operation. It’s good of you to help us out”

  “I was here anyway, Agent Sith, so it was not a matter of difficulty for me. I think that is what they hope yes. If not, perhaps the presence of a daemon from hell will scare her? I understand she was very religious?”

  “She wore this.” Sith held out a crucifix and was interested to note that Luga didn’t shy away from it or cover her eyes. Another legend busted. “After The Message, to keep wearing that, yes I’d say she was religious. That’s why she sold us out.”

  Inside the room, Kathryn Branch was terrified of what might happen. Her father should have been at Waco years before but had been delayed on his trip to the community and hadn’t been there when the FBI had assaulted the building. Ever since that day, she’d been brought up to fear and hate the Federal agencies her father had held responsible for all the deaths. Then, The Message had come and she and her family had laid down and waited to die as ordered. Only, the Archangel Michael himself had come down and picked her up, explaining that she had been chosen for a very special mission, to watch over the humans who were Left Behind. He had explained to her that she had become part of a very special group of humans chosen for this role, ones who were exempt from the ruling of universal damnation. And so she had become one of the group, reporting back what she had found out. Then she had been drafted and assigned to DIMO(N) and her services had become of even greater value.

  She looked up and saw to men from the FBI and a third figure, a tall woman with a dead white skin and small red horns pushing through her hair. Branch recognized her immediately, the succubus that had a new career as a television star. The grim words ran through her mind ‘you can’t lie to a succubus.’ She found herself realizing that Luga was actually quite attractive, then understood that its evil was already corrupting her.

  “You are Kathryn Branch?” One of the FBI men spoke quite gently. Branch shook her head, she might not be able to lie with a succubus present but she could say nothing. It took an effort because she had this continued urge to please the daemon in front of her.