Pantheocide

Chapter Twenty Six

Throne Room, The Ultimate Temple, Eternal City, Heaven

The Seraphim and Cherubim, along with all the other strange creatures that kept Yahweh amused, were developing a conditioned reflex. As soon as they saw Michael-Lan approaching to give his report on the progress of the war against the humans, they dived for cover. As he entered the Holiest of Holies, the badly-chipped marble of the temple walls suggested that the Master Mason had given up on repairing the damage from previous reports and was now just contenting himself with fixing the bits Yahweh could see. In the dim glow that filled the throne room, that wasn’t very much.

In front of him, the One Above All Others sat staring moodily at the seven great, gold lamps, watching the clouds of scented smoke hang in thick, hazy clouds. He still hadn’t recovered from the shock of Wuffles death and he had vetoed sending the Scarlet Beast and his rider to further vex the humans. Michael-Lan had been annoyed and surprised by that. He had planned on getting rid of them both that way. The humans would oblige him, he didn’t doubt that for a moment. They were killing off his enemies and rivals quite nicely and Yahweh was becoming steadily more isolated. He needed to get the veto reversed, that was one of his objectives today.

Michael-Lan took his accustomed position in the middle of the lamps and knelt down on both knees, prostrating himself and pressing his flawless lips to the cold, dark jade floor. The ceaseless chant of “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was, and is, and is to come. You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being”, quieted, and then died to whispers. In the gloom, Michael-Lan saw their eyes shifting around trying to find the nearest cover from the inevitable explosion. In the faces of the 24 members of the Eternal Choir, Michael-Lan could see the malicious enjoyment that warred with fear at the prospect of the events to come. Good for you boys Michael thought, I’ll try and live up to your expectations. Now, let the good times roll.

From the white throne, the voice of Yahweh thundered: “Michael-Lan, my general, what news do you bring me? Do the humans still defy my will?”

Of course they do, meadow-muffin. The serious question is how much longer you will defy theirs. “They cower in fear at our righteous wrath, Lord Above All Others, but still they remain recalcitrant. Humans blaspheme the Your Peerless Name.” Very inventively if I may say so “and they have evicted You from their places of learning and from their government offices. In all their cities and towns, from all their public places, and even from each person’s home You have been cast out. No longer do they give glory to You, and they continue to do their evil deeds. Putting it bluntly, Father of All, they have decided that they do not want You. Your own Holy Church has disowned you and curse your name as a usurper who has replaced the One True God.”

It was an all-time record, Michael-Lan had never got continuing thunderclaps and technicolor lightning this early in a meeting before. Marble fragments sprayed from the walls and lashed across the room. Michael-Lan glanced across to the traditional position of the Master mason and saw why the throne room hadn’t been fully repaired. The mason had built himself a quite well-designed bunker in one corner. As Michael watched, a stick with a white flag on the end rose from behind the walls and waved backwards and forwards. The movement attracted the attention of a pair of Seraphim who abandoned their cover behind a table and fled to the bunker. They vanished behind the walls, then were unceremoniously thrown out. Fortunately for them, the storm of fragments was dying down and they escaped with only a few serious wounds.

“What of Uriel-Lan? Has he redeemed his earlier failures?” The voice boomed across the still-roiling clouds that surrounded the Great Throne.

“He has carried out another attack, on a small town outside the city of San Diego. It was a hard battle, so I understand, and the humans fought well. They used their cruellest weapons and they drove him off. It must be said that Uriel is also believed to have fought bravely before being forced to retreat. There are reports that he is badly injured and the humans still hunt him with their beasts and machines. If they catch him, it will go hard for him. Forgiveness and mercy are not human characteristics.” Sorry, little humans, that libels you I know. So sue me. Michael hesitated for a moment, acutely conscious of all the lawsuits that were piling up over “Acts of God”. On second thoughts, please don’t. I can’t afford it. And in truth, your forgiveness and mercy exceeds the divine by far.

“He is defeated yet may still live?” Yahweh’s voice echoed concern.

“That is correct, Oh Lord Of All.”

“I would see him here. I would seek his explanation of his failures at first hand Michael-Lan. Arrange for his location and rescue. At once.”

Oh damn. “Your wish is my command Oh Lord Above All. Now, once again, may I bring to your attention the need to strike at the center of the Human spirit. I mean of course the City of Jerusalem. It would be a good target for the Scarlet Beast and for Dumah.” And it would give the Israelis something to shoot at. I’ve always wondered how good they really are

“Jerusalem. Yes that will strike at their hearts and souls.” Yahweh paused for a moment, thinking of the sad fate of Wuffles and Michael could swear that he saw him brush a tear from one eye. “But make sure that both Fluffy and Dumah know what they must do and ensure that they take care. Now what of the Bowls of Wrath? Is the Fourth Bowl poured yet?”

“Not yet, Lord of All, the time is not yet ripe.” Meaning neither I nor Belial have come up with a solution to that particular problem. Belial really is a great disappointment. “But I have news, the hurricane season is starting again on Earth, we can lash them with Your Divine Wrath once more.”

“Let it be so. And get Uriel here.”

The Montmartre Club, Heaven

“It really is most inconsiderate of him Raffie. He just won’t die.”

“Perhaps the humans are less powerful than you believe.”

Michael-Lan shook his head. “They’re deadly all right. They’re like the asp, very pretty to look at until they spread their hoods and sink their teeth into you. Then you die. Raffie, don’t ever underestimate humans, Satan did and the mistake killed him. Yahweh’s doing it and its costing him everything he has. Uriel’s been really lucky so far, that’s all. Plus the fact he’s the most powerful enemy the humans have ever faced. But, they’ll get him if we don’t rescue him.”

“Who are you going to send?” Raphael was hoping desperately he wouldn’t hear the word ‘you’.”

Michael-Lan was thinking that over. Instinctively, he would like to have sent a crew that were on his ‘to be disposed of’ list but that wouldn’t do. He was acutely aware of the fact that, in the great game he was playing, he was his own most powerful piece. “I’ll do this myself.”

Raphael relaxed so obviously that it made Michael-Lan grin. Then he waved at the stage. “The new girl is doing well up there.”

“Maion? Yes she is working out well. She was sulky and uncooperative at first but Charmeine-Lan put her in with some of our less gentle clients when she was behaving badly and with the kinder ones when she was conducting herself properly. She got the message soon enough, enthusiasm and cooperation got her a better class of playmate, and she comported herself accordingly.” Michael watched as Maion swung herself around the pole in the center of the stage, letting the feathers on the trailing edge of her left wing brush the audience sitting closest to her. She lifted one leg, wrapped it around her pole and started to slide down it. When she reached the bottom, she arched backwards, then straightened up. During the process, she dropped another part of her robe to the cheers of the crowd. “Yes she is doing well.”

“Michael-Lan, what do you plan to do about Lemuel? He’s getting closer.”

“He is, isn’t he. What do you suggest I do?”

“Kill him.”

Michael-Lan shook his head. “Bad move Raffie. Think about it. At the moment, the investigation he is officially running is actually helping us and he is the best person we could have in that job. The other investigation, the one that could lead to us, is private, or at least tightly confined. Now, if he dies, the first investigation gets disrupted and remember, we have rivals out there. People will look into his files, they’ll find out about his second investigation and that’ll make it all official. We’ll be the subject of a real League of the Holy Court hunt and that will mean serious problems for us all. So Lemuel lives. What we will do is send him down a blind alley, one where he can find all sorts of interesting things that are utterly unimportant.” Michael-Lan thought for a second. “Of course, the other option is to bring him into our little club here. Get him on our side. Human pleasures are seductive and having the best investigator in the League of the Holy Court working for us will be very useful indeed.”

“Risky.”

“Of course, but the rewards would be great. Ah, Maion’s finished her dance.” Up on the stage, the blonde angel was nude and knelt before the audience, sweeping her wings over to cover her head. An Erelim rose from his table close by the stage and took her hand, bringing her to his table. Michael waved unobtrusively and Charmeine-Lan came over to join him.

“Raffie, you know Charmeine-Lan, don’t you? She runs the girls who work here. Charmeine, we were just commenting on how well Maion seems to have settled in.

Charmeine-Lan thought for a second. “She was difficult at first but aren’t they all? Her addiction helps of course, if she goes short, she gets very cooperative very fast. But, once she’d settled in, everything worked out. In addition to her heroin, I’ve been keeping her on some other stuff, just to take the edge off so to speak. But she’s worked out some very good variations on the reverential dances she’d been taught. I think she’ll make it just fine.”

“No trouble with clients?”

“She panicked the first time one got rough with her but that’s all. Don’t worry Michael-Lan, she’s doing fine.”

“Who, me worry.” Michael-Lan threw his hands up in a traditional Alfred E Neuman gesture and his companions burst out laughing. Charmeine-Lan patted his hand and left. “Well, Raffie, one more round, then I’ve got to work out how to pull Uriel’s nuts, if he still has ownership rights on them, out of the fire.”

Second Regimental Headquarters, First Cavalry Division, Banks of the Irawaddy, Myanmar

“The trouble is that we haven’t actually advanced more than 250 miles, nobody in this crazy offensive has.” Senior Colonel Mahindra looked at the fuel bowsers that were feeding his armored cars and shook his head. It wasn’t just that they were American fuel trucks, it was the fact they had just materialized in the middle of his laager. He still couldn’t get used to the way his logistics train was working, he radioed for supplies and a helicopter with a sensitive and the equipment to open a portal arrived. Then there would be a black hole in the center of his camp and the trucks with his supplies would just drive out. He couldn’t help thinking he had the strategist’s dream here. A supply line that just materialized whatever he needed, where he needed it.

That wasn’t the end of the matter. The advance was simply leapfrogging from one point to the next. Any attempts by the Myanmar army to form a systematic defense had proved futile, the advancing columns of armor just drove into one of the ubiquitous portals and appeared somewhere else, usually where it would do most damage. It didn’t really matter anyway, the Myanmar Army was collapsing into a rout. The troops that had invaded Thailand were still there, under assault by the 5th, 9th and 15th Infantry Divisions, but the rest of the army was dissolving. That surprised nobody, it was an army of unwilling conscripts with the highest desertion rate in the world. Faced with a mechanized enemy that could jump around the country at will, that army had come to the logical conclusion that being out of uniform was a better place than being in it.

“Any idea where we’re going now?” Mahindra’s chief of staff instinctively checked the vehicle roster. They were in remarkably good shape for a unit that had advanced so far so fast. Then, he kicked himself, as his Colonel had pointed out, they hadn’t. They’d jumped around.

“Over the river, obviously. How and where is another matter.” There was another problem, a humanitarian one. The Myanmar junta hadn’t bothered to provide any systematic and effective relief to the population in the area devastated by Cyclone Nargis almost fifteen months earlier. Now, with the country opened up by the invasion, convoys of trucks were bringing relief supplies up to the impoverished people. The problem was that the relief agencies wanted to use portals as well and there just weren’t enough sensitives to provide them all.

“Sir.” A junior officer pointed towards the road leading back to Moulmein. A column of five Humvees, driven nose-to-tail was hurtling along the road in a cloud of red dust. Even as he watched, it stopped at the perimeter and then proceeded towards the vehicle laager. When it stopped, a group of officers debussed, led by a single short figure.

“Uh-oh.” Colonel Mahindra prayed devoutly that everything in his regiment was in order.

“Colonel. I need your regiment to move out.” General Asanee’s eyes ran around the command tent taking note of the carefully marked-up maps and the updated status charts.

“Yes Ma’am. I have a company ready to move now. I can make a full regimental move in three hours.”

“Three hours?”

“When we started to resupply, I made up a fast-response team and concentrated on getting them ready to go. Now that’s done, we’re refuelling the rest of the vehicles.”

“Everybody bombed up?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The General nodded. “Well done. I see no cause for complaint. Colonel, how would you like to be the first unit into Yangon?”

“Another jump ma’am?”

“That’s right, kitten found a sensitive in a village just east of Yangon. We’re getting better at doing that all the time. We’ll form a portal from here to Hell and then one from there to the new assembly point. Once that’s secured, we’ll use it as a base for our own sensitives to establish two more jumpheads west of the city and block any routes out. Then, you take your regiment in and secure the city.”

Mahindra looked at the map. “Any resistance likely at the first jump-head?”

“Recon says minimal at best. A Global Hawk’s overhead but it can’t see anything. All the reports we are getting says resistance is crumbling fast. Third of Second got held up at Pa’an because the local people insisted on winding flowers and rosaries around the guns on the tanks. If that pattern stays repeated, you should have no problems.”

“Ma’am, I’d like to send the rapid response unit into the jump-head in about one hour. I’ll have a full battalion ready to back them up by then. If the rapid response company hits problems, a full battalion will be enough to shoot them out of it, if they don’t run into trouble, then we gain time and we can get the base established earlier.”

“Approved.” The General leaned back and grinned. “This isn’t warfare the way our fathers learned is it?”

“No Ma’am. We’ve rewritten the book out here.”

“We’ve rewritten it for campaigning under these circumstances, yes. Whether using portals this way will work in a full-scale war against serious opposition, that’s another question entirely.”

“North Korea Ma’am?”

“North Korea. Whatever they’re up to. I suspect they’re watching what’s happening out here before deciding what to do in their own back yard. And also what happens to the Myanmar Junta. We’re convinced Yahweh put them up to this attack, now the only question is whether he’ll bail them out now it’s all going pear-shaped.”