by Stuart Slade
So, the SAS troops were kitted out in head-to-toe Kevlar, woven to give anti-stab protection as well as against bullet strikes. Of course, that wouldn’t help any if the gorgon started throwing lightning bolts around but one took what one could get. All in all, Captain Greg Crowleigh felt he had taken every precaution he could, the SAS might have a reputation for charging into situations but in reality, a vast amount of careful planning went on first. This strike had been no different although Crowleigh was grimly aware that he and his men were considered the B-team if that. The best of the SAS personnel had been deployed to Hell where they were raising their own particular brand of chaos. Well, now was the time to show the powers that be what his people could do.
“Ready Sergeant?”
The figure behind the grenade launcher nodded although the motion was barely visible behind the gas mask and body armor.
“In your own time then. Your shot is the go-signal.” There had been no need to repeat that, it had been stressed in the briefings often enough but Crowleigh was taking no chances. He hadn’t quite got the self-confidence to trust himself to get the message over. Although he didn’t realize it, that was why he was in the B-team.
The grenade launcher coughed, sending a 40mm tear gas grenade through the downstairs window of the house. An instant afterwards, four more launchers sent similar grenades through the other windows at the front, sending white smoke boiling upwards. Crowleigh started his run, jumping up from cover behind the hedge and heading for the bay windows that marked the living room. The house was a standard council property, similar to thousands of others scattered all over the U.K. This one hadn’t been bought by its occupiers during the 1980s but that wouldn’t change its floor plan. If anything, it made the assault easier for the tenants wouldn’t have made any radical changes the way an owner might.
Two blasts from the automatic shotgun he carried dealt with the window itself, then Crowleigh dived through the shattered glass, landing on the carpet inside in a smooth roll. A figure, human, was staggering around in the white haze of tear gas, wailing and holding it’s eyes. Then, it saw the black shape as Crowleigh rose to his feet.
“Goddess, you’ve come down to save us!” Then there was a brief pause as the human stared at the new visitor through streaming eyes. “You’re not our Goddess, get out of our temple.”
The figure lunged for Crowleigh with hands raised in claws. The Captain didn’t hesitate, one shotgun blast threw the human back against a wall, a second sent it tumbling to the floor. As it died, a Sergeant moved past him and flipped the internal door open. It lead to the hallway, stairs to the top floor leading off from one corner. Another figure was standing on those stairs, holding a piece of wood as a club. The Sergeant didn’t let it speak, although it was so racked by coughing that speech seemed unlikely. The burst from the shotgun blew the figure into rags.
Crowleigh and his men quickly fanned out through the tear-gas ridden house. Individual shotgun blasts or short bursts marked the demise of more members of the cult who had made this house their ‘temple’. The old days of HK-5 sub-machine guns had long gone, pistol bullets just didn’t work well enough against Demons. Two more cult members tried to escape out the back doors but were shot down by snipers who were part of the perimeter that isolated the building. The gorgon inside had evaded capture at least twice already, it wouldn’t make it three times on Crowleigh’s watch. The neighbors had been quietly evacuated, the surrounding buildings checked out then used to house the SAS personnel who were conducting the raid. Further out, a second perimeter reinforced the first. Nothing got through either without being very carefully searched.
Upstairs, Lakheenahuknaasi heard the crash of the windows breaking and the sound of gunfire as the members of her cult were cut down. That didn’t worry her, they were expendable and could easily be replaced if she got the chance. That was the problem, if. The house was filled with a strange white smoke that caused her eyes to stream and her lungs to sear. Worse, the same smoke was having the same effects on the tendrils that adorned her head, they were writhing in an incontrollable red and black mass. Completely useless and without their protection, Lakheenahuknaasi felt hideously exposed as she heard the pounding on the stairs that presaged the door of her room exploding inwards.
Sergeant Doyle saw the ghastly figure in the back of the room, its golden scales not hiding the horror of its appearance. It’s head was crowned by a mass of red and black snakes that seemed to have gone berserk, they were flailing about uncontrollably but he could still see the single eye that dominated each. The threads were shooting off barbs, mostly they were hitting the walls and ceiling but a few came Doyle’s way and that was enough. He leveled his shotgun and fired round after round into the struggling gorgon.
Lakheenahuknaasi felt the shots hit her and knew it was over. She had failed her mistress and her time on earth was done. It had been nice being a Goddess for a while and she had had an insight into what made Yahweh tick. It was good to be adored, even if the adoration was forced on an unwilling subject. The human was standing over her with his shotgun leveled and that was the last thing she saw as the world faded out around her.
“That is one ugly mother.” Crowleigh looked down at the mutilated gorgon on the floor. “Is it dead?”
“I do sincerely hope so Sir. I put ten slugs into it.” Sergeant Doyle had already reloaded his shotgun just in case.
“The orders were to take no chances. Tell Private Bodie to get the refrigerated van over here. The medics will want to dissect this one before it rots too much. And wrap that head up in something, the last thing we want is those blasted snakes shooting off more spines.”
Crowleigh left the house and watched the bodies being assembled on the pavement. More than a dozen humans, some men, some women, all entranced by that single gorgon. It had been busy during its brief stay on Earth. Around the barriers set up by the police, a small crowd was growing, mostly just staring at the bodies as the line grew. The sky-volcano over what was left of Sheffield had gone, the gorgon responsible had been killed at last. It had proved a reasonably good day after all.
Underground Fortress of Palelabour, Tartarus, Hell
Euryale woke with a shock, her eyes quickly scanning her lair for an assassin who might have crept in. The cave seemed empty, it wasn’t an intruder who had wakened her so abruptly. On an instinct, she started to scan across the gorgons who had made the trip to Palelabour. They were all present, but one mind, one far removed from the rest was gone. Euryale knew who that mind was and could guess why it was no longer showing up on her scan. Lakheenahuknaasi are you there my child?
Silence.
Euryale repeated the call over and over but there was no response. Her fears were confirmed, Lakheenahuknaasi was dead. She had expected it, the earth-bound gorgon had lasted longer than she had expected and the information she had brought back was more than valuable. It had given Euryale an insight into human habits and capabilities that had stunned her. She had shared only a little of that information with Belial, keeping most of it close to her chest because the implications were so overwhelming. Besides, information was a treasure and nobody parted with treasure when they didn’t have to. Now, the source of that treasure was cut off and Euryale would have to make do with what she had.
One thing stuck in her mind. Lakheenahuknaasi had told her humans were vengeful and held grudges a long time. She had told Euryale of historical disputes that had gone on for centuries over some small, insignificant patch of land. In some parts of the human realm, feuds had gone on for centuries over some minor insult whose original cause had been long forgotten. When she had heard that, Euryale realized that the humans would not forgive the destruction of Detroit and Sheffield. They would want vengeance and would go to any lengths to achieve it. The destruction of the Adamantine Fortress had shown that. Euryale had flown over to it, seeing how it had been crushed into ruins. If Belial hadn’t had the insight to get them out, he and all his clan would now be dead.
&
nbsp; Euryale relaxed back on her bed, staring at the ceiling of her lair. Human vengeance was a certain factor and they would not stop until they got it. So how would she and her gorgons survive the impending disaster? That was the question and it still nagged at her mind until she slipped back into sleep.
The Ultimate Temple, Heaven
This, Michael-lan thought was going to be tricky.
Yahweh was sitting on his throne, in the same half-bemused position that he had occupied when Michael-lan had last seen him. His eyes were remote, unfocussed, hypnotized by the rhythmic chants of praise that filled the air around him. Combined with the clouds of incense, they created a glurge of adoring worship that quite turned Michael’s stomach.
“Oh Great and Eternal Father of us All. I bring news of the great conflict between Earth and Hell and of the fate of our Eternal Enemy.”
Yahweh’s eyes snapped out of his trance and focused on Michael. “And have the humans been defeated? Has Satan done as we wished and taken them into his domain?”
Here we go. Michael’s inner mind relished the effect that his news was going to have on Yahweh. And let the good times roll. Michael-lan had liked New Orleans almost as much as he liked Las Vegas. He had been really upset with Yahweh when, in a fit of pique over something or other, Yahweh had turned the course of Hurricane Katrina on to New Orleans.
“No, Eternal Father. In fact, it is our Eternal Enemy who faces defeat. The humans go from strength to strength, they have smashed the armies of Hell, and killed many of the leading commanders. Beelzebub is dead, Asmodeus also, both killed by humans. Many more, too many to name now, although we have the list. The humans bombed the Eternal Enemy’s own palace, reducing it to rubble and killing all who attended him. The Eternal Enemy was spared only by chance. Dis itself is under siege and the Eternal Enemy is trapped inside. The humans command the skies over Hell, they have occupied much of its ground. Their armies go where they wish and destroy all who stand before them.
“But this is not all. Eternal Father, Highest of the High, Ruler of the Heavens” Michael left the ‘and Earth’ bit off, partly to annoy Yahweh, partly out of regard for the truth, but mostly because he’d get to that bit later. “The Humans have struck at the Plateau of Minos. They have killed Minos and all who labored with him and they have seized the plateau. All the humans who die are now transported to the parts of Hell occupied by humans. Not one human soul goes to Hell.”
Yahweh exploded with rage, his fury causing the clouds of incense to roll back and forth. “They have done what? It was my eternal will that humans should suffer for all eternity save those I thought worthy of salvation. And none now are worthy of that. You tell me they have once more rejected my divine commands?”
Oh, this was good thought Michael. Brightens up a dull millennia perfectly. He hadn’t had so much fun since he’d slipped Saint Peter a large dose of LSD he’d obtained on a trip to ‘Vegas.
“There is more O Immaculate One. The human church has repudiated you. They have excommunicated you. They have declared you a false god and affirmed that their beliefs apply to a true god whom you usurped.”
That did it. To Michael’s unrevealed delight, Yahweh went ballistic. Lightning bolts flashed around the throne room of the UltimateTemple and ricocheted off the walls, sending showers of pristine diamond flakes spiraling through the air. Thunder racked and rolled the air of heaven, sending people scurrying through the alabaster streets, seeking cover from the wrath that all too obviously centered on the Ultimate Temple. Eventually, the air calmed down and Yahweh started making sense again.
“Which church did this?”
“The Christians Eternal Father.”
“The one that idiot son of mine invented? Is he involved in this? What is the stupid moron up to now anyway?”
“I believe he is in retreat Eternal Father. Meditating on his existence in an effort to improve himself. By which I mean mentally added Michael He is getting ready to try out some really good grass I scored on my last trip to Earth. And I’ll be joining him as soon as I’ve got this tiresome chore out of the way. Anyway, blaming him for this mess is quite unreasonable, we all told you that the humans were advancing faster than anybody could expect but did you listen? Oh no, you had to know best didn’t you?
Yahweh nodded, his rage subsiding. “Is there anything else?”
“Not much O Heavenly Father. Only that some humans called lawyers have sued you in the Louisiana Supreme Court for damages resulting from Hurricane Katrina’s destruction of New Orleans. The Church described that as being ‘an act of God’ and that’s been taken as an admission of guilt. According to the judge, you owe the State of Louisiana eighty billion dollars.”
That did it, more lightning flashes battered the already-scarred walls of the throne room. For a moment Michael thought Yahweh was going to have a seizure but he controlled himself. “And what am I expected to do about that?”
“Well, you could pay them. Or you could appeal to the U.S. Supreme Court. That would mean you have to hire some lawyers though and most of them work for the Eternal Enemy. Or you could ignore them but then the humans might send an Army to collect it.”
This time the lightning flashes were multi-colored and went on for a long time. “My patience is at an end. Uriel’s plans are laid, the cups of wrath are ready to be poured. We will inflict tribulations on the humans that they cannon imagine even in their wildest nightmares. Order Uriel to set forth without further delay. The humans will weep for their insults to me.”
“Your will be done Eternal Father.” Michael took a step backwards and headed out of the palace. He’d been right, it had been a tricky meeting but he’d pulled it off. Uriel would set forth and, if Michael was any judge of the way things were going, he wouldn’t find it a happy experience. Anyway, that was for the future and, contrary to Yahweh’s frequently voiced opinions, the future could be trusted to take care of itself. In the immediate present, Michael planned to get stoned.
The Oval Office, The White House, Washington D.C.
“Are we all set up?”
“Yes Mister President. The equipment we asked for has arrived, four AN-124 transports landed with them on board a few hours ago. Putin sent the crews as well, so we wouldn’t have to waste time training our own people. So, all we need is the word and we’re set to go.
“Apart from that, everything is going well. The last organized demonic armies in hell have been dispersed, the city of Dis is cut off. We’ve seized the reception area for our dead and redirected them towards our own territory. That’s going well, Expedia. com are even advertising trips to our refugee and recovery area in hell so grieving relatives can welcome their deceased family members into the next life. Bit pricey but if that’s what the market demands… Anyway, as long as they don’t interrupt the logistics streams into Hell, that doesn’t worry us. The sky volcanoes have been shut down and the source of them bombed.”
“An interesting thing there Sir.” Doctor Surlethe cut across Secretary Warner when the Senator paused to catch his breath. “As far as we can make out, Tartarus is the contra-coup from the Hell Pit.”
“What?” President Bush looked confused. That was the sort of statement that made his head ache.
“Its like this Sir.” Surlethe produced a strip of paper, gave it a half-twist and stuck the ends together with tape. “Any dimension in hell is like this a Moebius Strip. The whole of hell is like this, we can’t visualize it because it needs extra dimensions but it does. Now, look at this.” He took a pencil and drew a line on the paper, around the circle. It kept going, without the point being lifted from the paper, until eventually it reached its starting point. “You see Sir, the paper only has one surface, a loop without the twist has two,. Hell is like this Sir, no matter which way you go, we always end up where we started, in every dimension. Now, the bombers flew to Tartarus and back, its exactly half way around the world from the Hell Pit. So if we draw that in the Moebius Strip, we see that half way around is exactly where the
Hell Pit is on the other side of the dimension. Mathematically, that’s fascinating.”
“I’m sure Doctor. Secretary Warner, in spite of all the good news and the progress we have made, I trust nobody is going to declare that we have reached the end of major combat operations?”
“No Sir. That caused enough trouble the last time.”
“Good. Thank you for the briefing. Oh, Doctor Surlethe. You said this Moebius Strip effect works for all dimensions in the Hell-dimension? So surely it should apply to time as well?”
Chapter Seventy Nine
Bravo Portal, Off Bermuda, Earth
The black ellipse had mushroomed open and now dominated the Great Sound of Bermuda. The shipping channel into the ellipse was guarded, for what came one way through the hellgate could be matched by what came in the opposite direction. Naval Base Hell-Bravo was as much a defensive installation as an offensive one.
Out in the shipping channel, the aircraft carrier USS Harry S Truman, CVN-75, was making her way slowly up towards the hellgate, surrounded by a bevy of tugs that were working overtime to keep her within the strict navigational limits. She was a big ship, she drew a lot of water and the last thing anybody needed was an unexpected accidental grounding. Up in front of her, two fire tugs were directing their hoses into the sky, the brilliant sunshine turning the spray of water into a myriad of colors. It was incredibly beautiful. Once again, Captain Herman A. Shelanski reminded himself that pulling into a foreign port was an experience that made all the sacrifices of living in the Navy worthwhile.
“Give ‘Em Hell Harry!” The woman was speaking through a bullhorn from a speedboat that was racing alongside the great carrier. A Cyclone class PC was keeping between her small craft and the side of the carrier, this may be the Salvation War but nobody had forgotten what had happened to the USS Cole. That wasn’t going to be the case here though, the speedboat curved away then made another run alongside the Truman. This time, the girl in the back pulled the bra of her bikini down and did as good an imitation of a pole-dance as was possible under the circumstances. The roar of cheering from the seamen manning the rails on the carrier drowned out the diesels on the tugs. Once again, the speedboat peeled away, this time it was for good because the ellipse was near and the girls wanted to repeat their performance on the John C Stennis following behind. Idly, Shelanski wondered what the Russian crew on the Piotr Veliky, third in line, would make of the display.
