“Tu es Paladin es Ukko an non? (Are you or are you not a Paladin of Ukko?)
There were only seven words and he even recognized two of them, but still Kane had no idea how to answer the large bull. Before he could think of something smart to say, a redheaded female sergeant stepped up with two other Marines at her back. All three of them looked like they’d been through the ringer. Covered in blood and dirt, they gripped their assault rifles in both hands surveying the carnage. As the female sergeant placing a callused hand on the lead Minotaur’s forearm, Kane read the name Driscoll on her uniform as she gave him an appraising look.
“Permitte me ut auxiliemini transferendum, Decanus Natalinus.” (Allow me to help translate, Decanus Natalinus.)
“I just wanted to say that was pretty impressive. Especially for an old man.”
Kane frowned as he tried to place the tone of her voice. The sergeant’s meaning was obvious as she nodded towards the pile of dead creatures behind him, but it was sometimes hard to know with Americans.
“Let me buy you a drink sometime and you’ll see I’m not all that old, lass.”
The large black Marine behind the sergeant gave Kane a warning glare as he angrily tried to shove past her to get at him. “Just answer the question you Mick-“
“Enough, Lance Corporal!”
Kane could see the man wanted to say more, but instead of pushing past her outstretched arm, the Marine stepped back with a sullen frown. Looking back at Kane a smirk played across the sergeant’s lips as she jerked her chin towards the large Minotaur on her other side.
“The big guy here wants to know if you’re a Paladin of Ukko. How about you start explaining what the hell that means and how you managed all of that by yourself?”
Frowning, Kane looked back down the slope. Already he could see a new line of demons taking up defensive positions in front of the hole. “There’s no time for this blarney.” Grumbling under his breath Kane turned back around to meet the sergeant’s emerald green eyes. “Name’s Kane McDougal, Chief Engineer of the Triumph that’s docked below. To answer your large furry friend’s question, most of the crew are Ukkodians of one level or another. I am just a humble Keeper. Only the leader of our order is a true Paladin of Ukko.”
Looking back at Kane incredulously the black Marine glared him accusingly. “Oh shit man, you mean you’re one of those crazy cultists everyone’s been talking about on the news?” While the man was obviously upset and confused, Kane noticed the Sergeant Driscoll’s startled look as if she were putting two-and-two together as the older man behind her nodded silently to himself.
Although most news agencies around the world still referred to their religion as being a dangerous extremist cult. In truth, by membership alone Ukkodians already ranked as being the third largest religion in the world, which was unbelievable when you considered the fact it had only been around for a decade.
Unfortunately, that fact only made the dominate religions that much more aggressive in their attacks. Politicians around the world were reeling at the dramatic shift of power. While the poor flocked to the teachings of Ukko, the rich fought harder and harder against their spreading influence with new legislation and official news reports that strove to discredit their teachings as extreme fanatics. Thankfully the internet and social media were their greatest tools for spreading the truth.
“One person’s cult is just another person’s religion.” With a grin, Kane met the excited Lance Corporal’s round eyes. “At what point does a cult earn the right of being called a religion? When it’s the fourth largest religion in the world … the third, or is it simply the age of a religion? Tell me Lance Corporal, which is it?”
Turning to Sergeant Driscoll Kane continued without pause meeting the lead Minotaur’s dark brown eyes. “As for the how, I can only say it’s my belief and the Book of Ukko that gives me the power and knowledge to fight these creatures.”
With his head held high Kane held the sergeant’s eyes as he waited for her response. He could see she wanted to question him more, but the Minotaur beside her was through waiting patiently. Urgently the bull turned her to face him.
“Quid dixit?” (What did he say?)
Sergeant Driscoll’s face screwed up as she looked back to Kane trying to make up her mind. Coming to a decision, she spoke quickly to the Minotaur beside her.
“Dicit enim dux Ukko Paladin, dum est humili gradu Keeper.“ (He says that his leader is a Paladin of Ukko, while he is just a low-level Keeper.)
Kane watched the interaction between sergeant and Minotaur as they spoke. Surprised that she could communicate so naturally. As he listened to the words, it was almost as if he could make out they were saying, so he was partly unsurprised when Sergeant Driscoll suddenly turned to him.
“He wants to know the name of the true Paladin that teaches you.”
Although Kane never had the honor to meet their Leader of their Order, he, at least, knew the man’s name. “He is called Startüm Ironwolf.”
Immediately he heard the legionnaires begin whispering excitedly as the name “Ironwolf” ran through their ranks like a wildfire. Before Sergeant Driscoll could think to translate, the lead Minotaur stepped up to Kane and knelt before him on one knee as the rest of the bulls around them followed suit.
“Ut per tractatus Alliance of Aurenko, Ego Decanus Lar Sestius Natalinus auxilium petitum pro mea Legionis et superstite Gorgonians fugerent Tuonellian Turba ex Paladin Startüm Ironwolf. (As per the treaty of the Alliance of Aurenko, I Decanus Lar Sestius Natalinus request aid on behalf of the Imperium and the surviving Gorgonians fleeing from the Tuonellian Hordes from the Paladin Startüm Ironwolf.)
Kane could see the disbelief in the sergeant’s face as she numbly translated the Minotaur’s words as the two Marines behind her stared at him in shock. Not that he was any less stunned by the sudden turn of events, but still he had to smile at their incredulous looks.
It was not unusual for mainstream monotheistic religions to look at Ukkodians as if they were some upstart cult of evil. Negative reactions such as hate and fear were just notably worse when these religions were intertwined within the geopolitical fabric of modern society. Especially when these religious institutions felt like they were losing their grip on the reins of power they’d held over the masses for so many centuries. For Kane, it was just another validation of the path he’d chosen.
Before he could reply bellowing roars rang out from the slope below as an offensive line ten demon strong began advancing down the slope with their weapons held at the ready. Kane could see his people backing away as they looked at each other worriedly trying to figure out what to do next when he heard a low roar of an approaching jet engine growing closer.
Following the sound, Kane looked skyward at a lone fighter jet coming in low over the island. As the F-18 came into range, a loud ripping roar filled the air as the Super Hornet’s main guns let loose with a long burst. The red streaks of tracers lit up the air as round after round slammed into the advancing demons, when the ground suddenly shook with a crump of displaced air as the fighter’s spread of air-to-ground missiles impacted in an exploding fireball.
No one said a word as smoke and debris vomited into the air. For a second, Kane wondered if the fighter jet’s weapons had managed to take down the creatures when suddenly a clawed foot strode into view. Within seconds of one another, the demons came striding out into the open without a scratch on their gray hides.
Turning back around Kane took in the numerous eyes watching him, before facing Sergeant Driscoll and the lead Minotaur once again. “Tell him I accept and will furnish him and his people the aid they need to the best of my ability, but-. How about we worry about this crazy shit after we get the fuck out of here?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Location Earth / Jerry Truman:
Sending his fighter into another sharp turn around the island, Jerry Truman watched unbelievably as the creatures waded into the fleeing Marines. From this height, he couldn’t
make out exactly what was happening below, but it looked as if the strange creatures were gathering up the survivors in massive sacks slung over their backs.
Taking a tighter hold on his stick, Jerry swore hammering his fist into the cockpit as he tried to think of something more he could do. He’d blown all of his armor piercing twenty-millimeter rounds for his Vulcan Cannon and his entire payload of Maverick missiles, but none of it had any effect. He might as well have been shooting spitballs for all the good it had done.
A glance at his fuel gauge told him he should be heading back now to look for the USS Abraham Lincoln if he wanted to find it with communications down before he ran dry, but he couldn’t tear himself away from the nightmare below.
“Unidentified fighter, I say for the last time. Identity yourself immediately or be destroyed.”
“What the hell?” Jerry jerked back on the stick in his hands as the words crackled over his headset. Looking behind him to either side, he saw two AV-8B Harrier jump jets tailing him as he sputtered into his MIC. Where the hell had they come from?
“This is Lieutenant Commander Jerry Truman of Strike Fighter Squadron 147 from the USS Abraham Lincoln, over.” Coming out of his bank, Jerry leveled out repeating his words praying that the radio was still functional.
It had been hit or miss with many of the Super Hornet’s onboard systems. Things like his ATFLIR (Advanced Targeting Forward Looking Infrared) were completely nonfunctional, while other systems like his MIDS-JTRS and digital flight control systems seemed to be mostly working. Not that he could complain. Even though the fighter jet hadn’t been hardened against electromagnetic attacks, he was at least still in the air, which was a freaking miracle in itself at this point.
“Unidentified aircraft, you will come about to course two-two-one to be escorted to the USS Essex Wood where you will be-.”
“Unidentified aircraft? We’re from the same Task Force you FNG. What the fuck, over?”
“Unidentified aircraft, until your identity can be confirmed you will follow the given flight plan or be shot down. Understood, over?”
“Are you jarheads a bunch of freaking morons? My IIF is out because a freaking electromagnetic blast hit my jet. Most of my systems are Red-X’s. What command channel are you using, over?”
“Unidentified aircraft, that information is classified-“
Ignoring the man’s words Jerry swore under his breath as he suddenly remembered the command channel the Marines were supposed to be using for the operation. “Never mind, I’m moving this conversation to your command channel now.” He had to set the channel manually since his internal HUD still wasn’t responding. As soon as he heard the flight chatter, Jerry triggered his MIC.
“Packrat from Strike Fighter Squadron 147 to Iron Gator, over.”
“Iron Gator to Packrat, go ahead.”
“Packrat to Iron Gator, I need to speak with the CAG, over.”
There was a slight pause before Jim heard a familiar voice over the radio. “Iron Gator to Packrat, is that you Truman? What the hell is going on out there, over?”
“Yea it’s me, Captain Peterson. Not sure what’s all happening since the EMP blast knocked out most of my systems, except for what’s been happening here on the island, which is a major shit storm and a half. I’m flying CAS with a bird that’s tango uniform only to have your boys threating to blow my ass out of the sky if I don’t follow them back to the boat, over.”
Immediately Jerry heard Peterson speak off MIC “Petty Officer Jenson, order Hammer and Smokey to disengage.” A moment later he was back. “Truman, I need a SITREP update, over.”
“Sir, those Marines down there are being slaughtered. If you don’t order an immediate evac now, you’re going to lose the entire island and the half battalion you’ve deployed.”
“We’ve got nothing on radar. Who’s attacking, the Russians, the Chinese, ISIS? What’s their troop strengths and strategic deployment? I need more information before I can make that kind of decision, over.”
For a long moment, Jerry thought over what to say about the nightmarish creatures he saw slaughtering the Marines. It wasn’t like he could ask the Air Wing XO if he’d ever seen the movie DOOM to give them both a mutual reference. He could see the conversation in his head. “Yes Sir, it looks like a portal was opened to hell, and we have hordes of demons pouring out killing Marines.” Still the comparison stuck in his mind as he let out a nervous breath. This was just like seeing a UFO while on patrol. You could talk about the radar contact, describe it, but you could never ever say the word UFO.
“Sir, it’s not the Russians or the Chinese. So far, I’ve only seen the enemy use ground-to-ground short ranged weapons. I had direct hits on the bogies I engaged with my Mavericks, direct hits on multiple targets, but their heavy armor shrugged off the missiles and my armor piercing rounds like they were nothing. Whatever they’re using, conventional weapons have little to no effect. I may as well have been shooting spitballs for all the good it did, over.”
There was a long pause as Captain Peterson chewed over the data. Jerry just hoped it was specific enough to get Air Wing XO to take his warning seriously. They’d been friends since the academy, but that didn’t mean talking crazy shit over the air wouldn’t end his career in a heartbeat, even if he were proven right in the end. Thankfully, protocol meant Peterson would send a high-speed flyover for visual confirmation that would be directly fed into the Marine Carrier’s CIC, but at least, Jerry wouldn’t be the one trying to explain what he’d seen over the radio.
“Truman, you’re saying these hostiles have no anti-air offensive capabilities, over?”
“None that I’m aware of, Sir. My strafing runs were simply ignored by the enemy, over.”
Jerry heard orders being given in the background before Captain Peterson got back to him. The shift in the Air Wing XO’s tone told him he was finished with discussing the situation.
“Trumann, I want you to lead a flyover with Hammer and Smokey, so we can get a visual on what’s going on down there, over.”
“Lima Charlie, Sir. In route now, Packrat out.”
***
Location Earth / Beth Kurwoski:
Staggering to a stop with Ryan’s arm around her shoulders Beth swore at the chaos around them. Everywhere she looked Scourge, Marines, and even Minotaurs were fighting, dying or fleeing for their lives. On the slope above the surviving Ukkodians were in full retreat as an assault line of ten demons swept towards them in a tight formation. Further up the volcanic mound, she could see another demon line was already forming. Throat tight with fear Beth turned to the two men beside her.
“We need an exit strategy.”
Still injured Ryan wearily lifted his head up to look over the situation as Captain MacRory hoarse voice spoke up from Ryan’s other side. “The Triumph is ready to sail. If we load her down to standing room only, we might be able to get four or five hundred Marines squeezed onto her deck before we’re forced to run for it.”
Meeting the Captain’s hard blue eyes, Beth snapped angrily. “You’re just going leave the rest of the Marines to die at the hands of demons?”
“Mrs. Kurwoski, my first concern is getting my people to safety, which now includes you and your team. My second is helping anyone else that we can. If throwing all my people at the Tuonellians right now would make a difference, I would do it in a heartbeat, but look at us. One demon took everything we had to stop it. Our people took out another four or five demons, but at what cost?” The Captain’s red beard fluttered in the wind as he studied the battlefield. “We’ve lost almost half of our people, and that was before the demons took the field in force. We’ll lose the rest if we don’t cut and run while we still can.”
Beth knew he was right even if she didn’t like it. Seeing the stubborn look on her face, the Captain’s eyes softened. “We’ll fight them, lass, but at a time and place of our choosing.”
Bringing two fingers to his lips Captain MacRory signaled his people with a piercing
whistle to head back to the ship. Within seconds, all the surviving Ukkodians were headed down the slope at a fast run as the large Irish man let Ryan go taking the lead. Every time they passed a Marine Captain MacRory would shove them towards the Triumph bellowing. “Head to the ship in the harbor for evac, pass the word.”
Even though Beth knew he was right, it still upset her to run from these creatures. Their battle with the demon had been closer than even she wanted to admit. Healing her shattered body after being nearly pummeled to death had taken the last of her energy reserves. Not that Captain MacRory was in much better shape after being healed from two near-death experiences in the same day. Unfortunately, that meant Ryan had to heal his injuries all by himself. Evan after using his entire energy pool, he could still barely move. As they approached the pier, Captain MacRory began hurrying towards the docked ship calling over his shoulder.
“I need to get to the bridge before Mr. MacSweeney decides it’s time to leave without us.” Seeing Beth’s confused look, he waved the comment away. “I’ll explain later.”
Beth was surprised at the large man’s energy, before realizing that the Captain wasn’t pouring all of his regenerating power into healing someone else. Struggling up the gangplank, Beth eyed the stern-faced armed crew standing at the railing as she found a free place to set Ryan down, before collapsing beside him.
Everywhere Beth looked the deck was covered with injured Marines with more arriving every second. As she watched, Beth recognized some of the people helping the wounded as members of the archeological team from the briefing they’d received back in Washington, when she saw the rest of her team trudging up the gangplank. Before she could get up the energy to wave them over, Beth heard her name called out.
“Agent Kurwoski?”
Turning towards the voice Beth saw a familiar face headed her way. Although the archeologist looked nothing like what Beth would have expected of a professor with multiple PhDs, especially not with the large chrome-plated forty-five and the foot long blade hanging from her well-used weapon’s belt. It reminded Beth of someone she’d seen before … “Nara Evans?” As Beth struggled to her feet to take the proffered hand, she noticed dark grimace that crossed the other woman’s face. Instantly realizing her mistake Beth held up her hands apologetically.
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