by Jeff Kirvin
"So I get the privilege of sending millions more to their deaths. Wonderful."
"That's the wrong way to look at it, and you know it, Daniel. Look out there,” Jack said, sweeping his arm around the carnage of the battlefield. “You had just as much of a chance of buying it today as anyone else, yet you survived. So did I."
"Ricardo and Manuel weren't so lucky."
"True,” Jack said, nodding. “And they'll be missed. You have to understand that people die in war."
"I know,” Daniel said, and he threw Gabriel's helmet as far away as he could.
"But Daniel,” Jack said as he put a hand on Daniel's arm, “people live in war, too. You may not believe this, but everyone here today was here of their own accord. The Underground has no conscript soldiers. Those that died today died while fighting for something they believed in. Maybe I'm just a romantic old soldier, but I think dying for something you believe in is a pretty good way to go. Honor the people that died today by honoring what they chose to die for."
Daniel was silent for a long moment. “Jack?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Why me?"
"Why you what, exactly?"
Daniel laid back in the dirt, placing his hands behind his head. “How did I become ... whatever it is that everyone thinks I am? Everyone looks to me to be this great leader, but half the time I don't know what the hell I'm doing."
Daniel sat up again and looked at Jack. “Sometimes I just want to scream ‘Don't you people know I'm just making this up as I go?', but I can't. I just have to keep going and hope I don't make some horrible mistake."
Jack smiled. “That's why you're the leader. Daniel, nobody knows what they're doing all the time, and no one expects you to have all the answers. But we trust you to make the best decision, and we follow where you lead. Try letting yourself lead us, quit hamstringing yourself with doubts, and you'll be fine."
Daniel shook his head. “You were a leader of Navy SEALs and a major metro area SWAT team. Why do you follow me?"
Jack grinned and got to his feet. “Because whether you know it or not, whether you believe it or not, you're the best damn leader of men I've ever seen. You inspire. You ennoble. Millions of people will throw themselves into battle against almost certain death if you say it's necessary. I could never be what you are.
"Sir."
Jack offered a quick salute, then walked away. Daniel watched him go, then turned his attention to the setting sun and thought about tomorrow.
Dark Angel
Daniel soon found that tomorrow would have to wait.
Before the sun had completely set, one of the Underground fighters (whose name Daniel was chagrined that he didn't remember) came running up to him.
"Sir! Come look!"
Daniel sprang to his feet with much more energy than he thought he had. Without a word, he followed the young soldier into the bunker.
"It's right this way, sir,” said the soldier, leading Daniel quickly through a labyrinth of corridors.
"What's your name, soldier?” Daniel asked.
"Simmons, sir."
"What's so important, Simmons?"
Simmons led Daniel into a brightly lit room. “This,” he said.
On the far wall, Daniel was amazed to see a gleaming white and empty suit of angelic armor.
Fifteen minutes later, Daniel was alone in the room with the armor, Jack and Manuel's successor, Julia Cohen.
"Well, people,” Daniel asked, “what do we do with this?"
"The way I see it,” said Cohen, a former university history professor, “we have no choice but to disassemble it for study. The more weaknesses we can find in the design, the easier it will be to exploit those weaknesses in the future."
Daniel started to reply, but Jack cut him off. “No,” he said sharply. “This is too valuable a weapon to just let someone rip it apart and hope we can figure out a weak spot. We have to test it, figure out how to use it, then save it as our ace in the hole."
"And in the meantime,” Cohen countered, “we pass up this opportunity to let our fighters get a better idea of what we're up against."
"If we want to win, yes,” Jack nearly shouted.
"That's enough,” Daniel said, and both Jack and Cohen fell silent. “You're both right, and you're both wrong. We will study the armor, from the inside, but we aren't going to disassemble it. It seems to me that we can divine the weaknesses of the armor more effectively by putting it to use than by dissecting it.” Daniel walked over to the armor and ran his hand over its sleek lines.
"Excellent idea, sir,” Jack said, earning him a poisonous gaze from Cohen. “I'll find someone to start putting the armor through its paces right away."
"That won't be necessary,” Daniel said, turning back to them. “I can't very well ask anyone under me to do something I'm not willing to do myself, can I?"
Jack did not at all like the look of Daniel's smile.
The testing officially began early the next morning. With the help of Jack and a few technicians, Daniel struggled to put on the armor.
The armor was divided essentially into two parts. The first, inner layer was a neoprene-like bodysuit lined with electrodes. Naming it the “wetsuit", the technicians had surmised that it was responsible for transmitting and interpreting the neural impulses of the wearer.
Over the wetsuit fit the powered exoskeleton. Even without the muscle-mirroring armor plates, the exoskeleton weighed more than five hundred pounds. While it was presumed than an angel, with their far superior physical strength, could suit up alone, a human required several assistants to put on the suit. Daniel felt like a knight of the Round Table preparing for battle.
Much to everyone's surprise, as soon as the exoskeleton came in contact with the wetsuit, the circuit completed and Daniel was able to move that part of his body with minimum effort. He put on the final glove and his helmet with no outside assistance at all. They had still not managed to locate the power supply, but it was apparently very efficient and always available.
Preparations finally complete, Daniel trudged out of the bunker and into the mid-morning sunlight. The lawn was still in ruin from the previous day's fighting, but Daniel still tried to find a patch of ground free of grass to begin testing. No sense burning what little's left, he thought.
Daniel took a look around and tried to familiarize himself with the helmet's displays. The interior of his visor contained a heads-up display, much like those used in the cockpits of fighter jets. Some of the readouts, like airspeed and altitude, were meaningless on the ground. However, he did have access to information about his groundspeed, range to whatever object was directly in front of him, and the condition of his weapons. He noted that his suit was fully armed and fueled with zero damage.
Before he took to the air, Daniel decided to test the physical abilities of the suit while still on the ground. He walked over to the wrecked and burned out hulk of a truck at the edge of the lawn.
"I'm going to try a strength test,” he said to the techs. They nodded and made notes. Daniel reached down and sank his armored fingers into the metal of the exposed frame. Bending at the knees and lifting with his legs, Daniel lifted the two ton vehicle and held it over his head. It was heavy, but not dangerously so. Daniel figured the suit was roughly one hundred times stronger than a human, maybe ten times stronger than an angel. He relayed his findings and tossed the truck aside.
He'd been keeping an eye on the speedometer inside his helmet. Now was the time to put it to the test. “I'm going for a run,” he said. “I'll be back soon."
Picking a street relatively free of debris, Daniel took off at a run. It was rough going for the first few steps, then the wings folded back again on themselves to reduce the wind resistance. Daniel picked up speed rapidly, and soon found himself exceeding 50 miles per hour through the streets of San Diego, covering more than a dozen yards with each bounding stride. He doubled back and returned to the bunker, nearly running over the technicians as he tried to stop.
Jack shook his head. “Daniel, don't—"
"Come on, Jack, you were the one that said I needed to trust my instincts, remember?"
"You haven't tested a single weapon!"
Daniel turned and raised his arm to point at the van he'd tossed aside. A rocket flew out of Daniel's arm-mounted launcher and blew the van to pieces.
Daniel turned back to Jack. “The coordinates?"
Jack stared at what was left of the truck, mouth open. “How did you—"
"Targeting is automatic. Firing is voice controlled. I'm just glad it's programmed in English. Probably a holdover from the days when the immortals weren't allowed to speak their own language.
"The coordinates?"
Jack nodded and told Daniel what he needed to know. Daniel then motioned for everyone to stand back.
"I obviously won't be able to transport anyone to safety,” Daniel said as he spread his wings, “but with everything else the angels have to worry about right now, I doubt they have the time or resources to track down the people I release. I'll keep my radio on, and I'll let you know how it works out."
Daniel ignited his engines. “I'll be back soon.” Without another word, Daniel rose into the sky and flew north over the horizon.
Daniel had to admit he was starting to understand what the angels saw in all of this.
Cruising three hundred feet above the desert floor at over four hundred miles per hour, Daniel did a barrel roll and let out a little whoop of joy. He'd grown up reading comic books about superheroes that could fly, and had often daydreamed about what that might be like, but even his wildest dreams hadn't prepared him for this. The sparse cactus and tumbleweed of arid southern California sped past and underneath him in a blur, as did the occasional very confused jackrabbit. Daniel did another barrel roll.
The in-flight guidance of the armor was remarkably simple. The throttle was voice controlled, and the maneuvering handled by reacting to his body movements. Raise the right shoulder while dipping the left, bank to the left. It was a lot like swimming through the air.
Once Daniel got the hang of the “controls", he poured on the speed and zeroed in on the coordinates Jack had given him. According to the readouts on his HUD, he should be coming up on the Care Center any minute now...
There!
The low-slung, stark white and very medical-looking buildings were practically identical to the Care Center south of L.A. Daniel had attacked not so long ago. Daniel saw no movement as he flew overhead, so he quickly throttled down, banked hard left and came back in for a closer look. His landing was a little rough, but passable.
At first Daniel thought the Care Center may have been abandoned. There was no sign of movement or any evidence that anyone still walked its dusty streets. On closer examination, many of the buildings bore powder burns and a few even had chunks of stone torn out of them. There had been quite a fight here. The only sign of life left in the entire complex was a thin plume of white smoke crawling out of a nearby chimney and dissipating quickly in the desert wind.
Of course, Daniel thought. The reports from the newly established Los Angeles Underground had been sketchy at best, but it seemed likely that the fledgling division of the Underground would strike here on the First Offensive rather than at Heaven itself. Chances were good that Daniel was a day late if he planned to liberate the patients here.
"About time someone else showed up,” said a voice behind him.
Daniel turned to see an angel in a grimy gold uniform step out of the doorway to one of the larger buildings. The angel approached Daniel and wiped his hands on a dirty rag.
"Are you the only clean up crew we're going to get?"
Daniel nodded.
"Wonderful,” the angel continued. “I guess these upstart rebels have Michael more worried than I thought. Oh, well. We've been loading bodies into the incinerator all morning. We lost our only suit in the battle yesterday, so it's been pretty hard work. We've still got...” The angel trailed off. “Nah, it's easier to just show you. Follow me."
Daniel fell into step behind the angel and followed him into the building. When his eyes readjusted to the dim lighting after the solar glare outside, Daniel struggled to repress a gag.
There were bodies everywhere. They were stacked like firewood along the walls of the giant room, and laid out in neat rows on the floor. Some of them obviously died in battle, but more than three quarters of them wore the white coveralls of Care Center inmates. Hundreds of lifeless eyes stared at Daniel as he followed the angel to the furnace at the far end of the room. Three more angels stood near the furnace and threw body after body into its fires.
The angel looked over his shoulder at Daniel. “Ever worked a Care Center before?"
Daniel shook his head.
"This is the final destination for most of the humans that come here. When they're no longer useful for experimental purposes, they're brought here, put to sleep, and disposed of. We don't have the time or resources to give them a mass burial, so we just burn them. We four are the only survivors of yesterday's attack, and Michael can't spare the manpower to restaff this place and make keeping it open cost efficient, so after we dispose of the bodies I guess we're just going have to return to Heaven until this rebellion garbage blows over. Thanks for helping us out, by the way. Without armored strength, this would have taken us all day..."
The angel stopped talking when he turned to glance at Daniel and found the armor's weapons trained on him and his compatriots.
"What's going on?” he asked.
"Allow me to introduce myself,” Daniel said. “I'm Daniel Cho, leader of this ‘rebellion garbage’ and operator of a captured suit of angelic armor."
The angels said nothing.
"Outside,” Daniel said, motioning to the door. Daniel never lowered his weapons as he followed them out.
"So what now, Cho?” asked the angel that had spoken to Daniel. “You going to kill us in cold blood?"
"You mean like you did the prisoners here?"
"Hey, man,” the angel replied, “we were just following orders. Personally, I like humans."
Just for a moment, Daniel started to lower his weapons. Then he heard it. The distant and very distinctive roar of angelic armor in flight. The instant Daniel glanced up to be sure, his captives scattered.
Damn!, he thought to himself. Those bastards were just stalling. He should have realized that the armor the first angel mistook him for would show up eventually.
Daniel ran to the south end of the camp, catching up with one of the four angels he'd lost and smearing him against a building. As he ran, he called up the radar display in his helmet, which he'd turned off earlier because he found it distracting. Dumb move, he noted.
The angels were still over two miles away, and flying at high altitude. There were five of them, according to his radar, and Daniel wasn't stupid enough to take them on. Flying as low and fast as he could, he took off to the south and hoped his own radar signature would be lost in the ground clutter.
He wasn't followed.
Daniel arrived at the San Diego bunker early that afternoon and told his story. He then took the armor into a back room and shut the door.
Two hours later, he called for someone to help him suit up. When he emerged from the bunker, everyone stopped whatever he or she was doing to look.
The armor was painted a deep, flat black that seemed to swallow up any light that hit it. Daniel stepped out onto the lawn, an avenging dark angel, and addressed his troops.
"The tests have been successful. I will wear this armor as I lead you into combat. I've changed its color, not only to differentiate it from the enemy, but as a symbol of those we have already lost. Too many of us have perished already for Michael's dream of Order, and as I stand before you today I vow that this insanity will end!"
Daniel Cho raised an ebony gauntlet over his head, and led the battle cry in San Diego.
Freedom of Speech
As the setting sun cast long shadows across Heaven, Michael paced. The cleanup crew he'd sent to shut down the east L.A. Care Center had just reported in. Cho had a suit of armor! The situation had quickly gone from annoying to intolerable. At first he hadn't believed Cho's little resistance movement to be a serious threat, but the previous day's events and this new information had forced him to reevaluate that assessment.
Damn!
As he had done so many times in the past twenty-four hours that he'd lost count, Michael wished Gabriel was there to advise him. His friend didn't have Michael's gift for strategy or organization, but he was a cunning warrior and often saw things Michael did not. Now that Cho had forced Michael to view this situation as a legitimate military engagement, he direly needed a warrior's point of view. But Cho had taken that away from him too.
Michael nearly put his fist through the wall, badly denting the golden metal. Damn!
More politician than warrior, Michael had spent most of the day assessing his losses and trying to come up with a way to put a positive spin on them. The Underground's victories of the previous day were no secret, and public opinion was rapidly turning against him. The time when he could dismiss the Underground as bumbling malcontents had passed. If he didn't treat them as a respected and dangerous enemy now, he'd seem the fool in comparison. But he couldn't speak to the humans directly. His image was still too hot for such obvious spin doctoring. He still had one ace in the hole.
"Susan!"
Moments later, Susan Richardson entered Michael's throne room, notepad in hand. “You summoned me, my Lord?"
"Yes,” he said, walking to the window and trying to look as regal as possible. “We need to make a statement about yesterday's rebel insurrection. I want you to tell the people that the angelic losses were nowhere near the rumored levels, and that most of the rebels were destroyed and/or humiliated. Assure them that I am still in complete control, and that while the rebels were stronger than we originally anticipated, they are on the verge of destruction and we are very near to capturing Daniel Cho."