“Maybe if I try connecting...”
“I don't care what you connect with whom. We're blind without that radar.”
“There,” he shouted triumphantly. The radar blinked on.
Then it went right off again.
He cursed, fiddled with it some more. The screen came on again, this time long enough to make a single pass before it winked out. Tamael didn't understand the complex radar readings, but all the technicians sitting around the console froze at the image.
All the color drained from the engineer's face.
* * * *
“Where am I?” Rico asked, disoriented and bewildered. One moment he faced the two angels in the dark, rank chamber of the Nemat rector, and suddenly he was in a lush, well-lit room. It was about half the size of a school gym. Everything was red. Soft carpet, overstuffed couches. Red tapestries on the walls. No doors except one on the far wall. A spiced aroma rose from dual incense burners in the middle of the room.
And humans. Six of them. All incredibly attractive females with pale skin and flowing hair white as milk. Teenagers. Naked.
They lounged around the room like cats on a summer day. They appeared to all look alike, exact clones of each other. Their hefty breasts were like overflowing bowls of vanilla ice cream with a bright red cherry on top. They made Mayra's boobs look like pancakes. The whole place was a scene from a harem movie.
They turned to Rico. Their eyes were expressionless, devoid of life. It reminded him of the first humans he saw earlier. Zombies.
“Welcome to my home,” Moloch said, suddenly appearing at his side.
He jumped. “How did I get here?”
“You brought yourself. All humans have the ability to jump planes. With practice, you can use it to go wherever you please, even in and out of the Sphere. No angels and only the most powerful demons can do this. It will be one of our greatest weapons. This time I planted the suggestion in your mind. Next, you'll do it all on your own.”
“Okay ... but where are we?”
He laughed, walking forward to a bar and pouring himself a drink of a steaming red liquid. “We're deep within the city. In an empty, forgotten building.”
A girl sat at the bar, unmoving, watching Rico. She sat on a strange stool made of what looked like crossed elephant tusks. He watched her in return. She didn't blink, and it gave him the creeps.
He noticed Rico's interest. “They were slaves at one time. I've freed them.”
“What's wrong with them?”
“They've been denuded. It's a long process, but many opt for it to ensure their investment doesn't revolt and have to be killed. The Dahhak drain all their slaves.
“These particular girls are from a small planet that self-destructed with war and famine. The men are all different, yet the women are identical. It's rather strange.”
“Can you help them?”
“Once denuded, they're gone forever. Empty shells.”
“That's ... That's horrible.”
Moloch sighed. He looked considerably cleaner than he did in the temple. Before, the man had been covered with gore. It appeared he had taken a shower, dried and brushed his hair, and changed into a clean robe.
“It is ghastly. But it still isn't as repugnant as what the angels have done. Remember that. The demons are by no means our allies, but for the moment, they aren't our enemies. Not yet.”
“But they think you're their god!”
He nodded, sipping from his drink. He leaned against the bar casually. “Soon, they'll also embrace you as a deity. As all demons and angels will.”
“But....”
“No more talk of this!” he suddenly cried, slamming his drink down. “We can always discuss our destinies, but now we shall celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?”
“Another Child of Moloch has come home! It is a great moment indeed.” He grabbed the woman and yanked her roughly off the chair. She complied wordlessly. He led her toward a lone doorway.
“Take one, or two for that matter; they are yours to command,” Moloch said over his shoulder. “I'm afraid they've all been broken in already.”
Rico was horrified, but excited at the same time. Mine to command. At the same time, it seemed ... weird. But this Moloch guy had saved him. These girls were better off here than with one of those horrible demons. He looked at one of the girls and held out his hand.
* * * *
Tamael waited desperately as the engineers tested the automatic defenses. They seemed to be working properly, but the long range radar tracking wasn't picking up the signals they knew were there. The scent of tension rose amongst the control center. Despite the bustle of activity, an uneasy calm had settled upon them all. Their hurried movements were liquid. Trained, despite the technical difficulties.
We can do this. They constantly drilled for this moment. Every angel had a specific duty, each one an important part of their intricate defense plan.
But a dark, ominous voice nagged at her. They were barely more than 6,000 angels. Though all were given the honorary rank of Power, she knew the truth. They were just engineers. The few true Powers they did have were good, battle-seasoned officers, but even they wouldn't be able to properly lead the group in an all-out clash, even with the surprises they had waiting.
“Fixed it,” an engineer cried. The main screen blinked on.
No one moved for several seconds. The screen displayed both raw data and visual interpretations. Three regiments of demons were coming, each one consisting of ten thousand soldiers. Two were Dahhak, the third was a wide W formation of Pazuzu Stingers. She took a deep breath at the sight of the chopping black demons. She had waking nightmares of their venomous tails ripping through armor and flesh.
Behind the Pazuzu regiment lumbered three mammoth transports with an escort of nine fighter/bombers. The transports seemed to sag, and they wobbled erratically as if a thunderous presence within was thrashing about.
She shook. Fear grew over her, around her, in her. Like a weed.
You are the highest ranking officer. The life of everyone here is your responsibility. You can't doubt yourself. Just do what you can. Do what you must.
“What's in those transports?” she demanded.
“No way of knowing, ma'am. Our radar is working at less than ten percent.”
Damn it. “Those are our target priorities. Fire upon them as soon as they're directly above our first defense ring. Once they're down, focus on the rear.”
At her command console, a light blinked blue, signaling the twenty Foray fighters they had rebuilt and refurbished were ready to launch. They hadn't been able to test them, and she prayed they wouldn't malfunction. The fighter planes would launch vertically like missiles out of a hidden cavern, which would be blown in after takeoff. Once launched, the planes would have nowhere to land. She prayed for the brave pilots.
The drones were ready to go. All the other traps were set.
War
Hitomi huddled against the wall, desperately trying to close her eyes against the world around her. The emergency klaxon had sounded earlier, a terrified-looking angel came to their room and told them to stay put and not make any noise. Demons were coming. She clutched onto her periscepter like a security blanket. The black object no longer seemed so evil to her, and she no longer wanted to be separated from it.
If the demons attacked, would the angels call upon her to help? She didn't know if she would be fast enough to fend off hordes of the demons, coming at her from every direction. She trembled. It was unthinkable.
* * * *
Yehppael couldn't stop thinking about the humans. So much had happened since his conversation with them; a force that would surely crush them was attacking the base, but still his mind was on the four.
How they got here was a mystery to be pondered at another time. That they were here is what mattered. It wasn't just some anomaly. Damn the Cherubim and Seraphim. The full text of the prophecy had never been revealed. It was hidden in the upper cham
bers of the library, deep within the restricted area.
Like most of the prophecies, though, part of it was revealed to all:
"On the brink of ruin, four of His otherworld creations shall come to reunite the thirteen towers.
The fruition of their efforts is not set in time nor stone nor flesh. And they shall be burdened with 1000 failures before the light will truly shine on not just His creations, but all of creation itself, forever quelling the darkness in us all.”
That was what all angels knew, given to them as they learned the ways of their world. The four were always assumed to be humans, and the periscepters were often referred to as towers in the texts. The second part was frequently debated in scholarly discussions amongst the common angels, and most believed it meant the prophecy wouldn't ever likely come true.
After countless hours of study, he had also discovered another piece of the prophecy buried in a dusty tome, a short passage that referred to the four humans.
"For one, the end will be the beginning.
For another, Two bitter reunions shall set those bound free.
The third will die by the hand of the fourth.
Healing all wounds but one.”
The passage haunted him.
He had told no one of his discovery in fear of reprimand from the higher castes. It was not a Power's duty to learn the history beyond what they were already taught, and he had been told that a hundred times over with glares and sharp remarks while he was within the great Athenaeum.
Regardless, an uncomfortable feeling brewed within him. A heated battle was soon to embroil them all, first at their battle stations and then likely hand to hand. His duty was to his fellow soldiers. But if the prophecy was real, then the humans were the real treasure to be protected. With the Hashmallim gone, he feared he was the only living angel who believed this. To act upon it, to abandon his fellow angels in order to protect the humans and the cicatrix bearer, would be considered high treason.
Especially by Tamael.
Though she wore a mask of fierce determination under her battle helmet, he could read her true emotions clearly. She was valiant. But she was very, very afraid.
I am too.
The humans could save them. The girl could destroy the entire invading army with a single flick of the wrist.
The Human girl, he typed into his console. We should bring her and her weapon near the surface. He sent the message to Tamael.
I've already arranged for it, she replied.
“They're crossing the first defense pattern,” came the report.
The defenses here were mostly automatic, designed that way to prepare those in the control center for the much more devastating second wave. He watched anxiously as the three armies converged like black swarms of locusts on the screen. His mouth was dry, and he swallowed hard.
The ready lights of the drones blinked on and off ominously, an electronic battle already raging between the engineers sitting behind him and some unknown demon force, presumably deep within Cibola.
After those were exhausted, their last line of remote defense was an array of extremely powerful cannons. Their connections with them direct and by cable.
Finally, he would give battlefield instructions to the brave pilots in the remanufactured air force, plotting their attacks from a camera drone flying high above the fight. And after they were destroyed, he and Tamael would lead the others within this very room to defend the entrance.
Strapped against the back of his chair, his rifle hummed.
“Attack,” Tamael said. Her voice almost a whisper.
“Here we go,” a soldier muttered, pulling his helmet over his head.
Yehppael did the same with his, patching himself into the computer. Most of the sounds around him were filtered out.
“May He bless your swords,” came the benediction from Tamael.
Hidden along a horizontal line within the already-torn battlefield were several missile batteries. These elongated boxes suddenly popped out of the grass, uprooting the dirt and bones upon them. Those within range of one of the primary targets immediately locked in and fired. Several malfunctioned; a few even exploded. Those out of range unleashed their fire on the secondary target, the escorts.
From a ground camera, Yehppael watched the rockets corkscrew into the sky toward their mammoth target high above. The machines took up the whole arc of vision. The camera went white as the missiles began finding their targets.
The radar showed the explosions, but the screen was so muddied the results weren't clear. Already more missiles were streaking into the sky, exploding along the rears of the invading army. The tight formation of the Pazuzu troops buckled.
“Report?” Tamael demanded, her voice cracking over the band.
“Most of the escorts, save two, seem to have been destroyed. All three of the transports remain intact, though one appears to be making an emergency landing.”
An iron pit of fear formed in Yehppael's gut. They should all be gone.
“Activate drones.” Her voice was strained.
The screen before Yehppael sprang up. Half of the drones didn't respond. The others jumped into the air from their hidden bunkers and streaked toward the armies, firing blasts from the rapidly closing distance. The controls were erratic, and drones randomly lost radio contact and sometimes plummeted.
Yehppael sent the drones cutting upwards through the center of the demon formation, forcing them to split. Though the invading forces were strong and numerous, it was clear they weren't expecting a response this powerful. Soon the center squadron of Pazuzu were scattered about, any semblance of order destroyed.
Yehppael and half the others moved their drones through the confused demons and toward the flank of the Dahhak flock. The Pazuzu who attempted to retaliate against the flying machines kept blasting their own soldiers out of the sky.
For Yehppael, it was a silent chaos.
The drone juggernaut pierced the Dahhak flank like a sharpened blade; but the demons’ discipline was much stronger than that of the more imposing Pazuzu. They held their ground, allowing the drones to crash into them rather than dive out of the way. The momentum of the black drones was enough to rip the Dahhak in two, but it also destroyed the drone.
Between the drones inexplicably dropping out of the sky and the ones being sacrificed against a single demon, they were quickly running out. The sheer numbers of the enemy were overpowering them.
“Forays, prepare to launch,” Tamael called. “Scatter and blow the remaining drones, power up the manual defense batteries.”
He forced his few remaining drones to an equal length, self-destructing them. The pieces scattered like tiny blades, cutting through the Dahhak. Now, the only drones that remained were the tiny camera bots, zipping about high above. He didn't have time to assess the damage. Already the screen before him altered and the cannon controls raised from the dual rests on his chair. He inserted his arms into the braces.
He was virtually transported to the battlefield. His “eye” was placed right in the center of the three barrels of his cannon as it emerged from the ground. Even the outdoor sounds were there. Sometimes he didn't understand the logic of those who designed these weapons. It was an especially disconcerting feeling.
The enemy army was a spreading ink spot in the crimson sky.
In the distance, a dark cloud rose, soon followed by the rumble of a distant, loud explosion. The damaged transport had failed its emergency landing, whatever inside hopefully killed.
He uttered a command, and his visual of the enemy zoomed in. The Pazuzu were still disorganized, but both Dahhak regiments appeared in shape, hardly a dent in them after all that. An orderly swarm of death.
“The forward ranks of the Pazuzu are armed with shoulder missiles,” a drone scout reported. “Damage and payload not yet ascertained.”
Wonderful. Nothing was worse than facing unknown weaponry. Focus horizontally on the front enemy lines, came the order from Tamael.
Sti
ll, they came closer and closer to the line of range. His hands itched at the controls. He zoomed to the point he could see the sharpened teeth of the Pazuzu gleaming in the light. They closed in on the invisible line. Closer. Closer.
“Fire!” Tamael cried so loud it distorted over the band.
He pulled the trigger, unleashing hell.
* * * *
A pair of guards abruptly burst in on them, surprising Hitomi. She found herself backing away.
“You are to come with us,” the guard said.
“What's going on?” Gramm asked, standing.
“Come on,” the guard said, herding them out of the room.
They were led into the meeting chamber and down a hallway she hadn't noticed before. There were many curves and branches. The corridor was higher so the angels could walk more comfortably, and the walls were braced. The few angels they did see were hurrying. Most didn't acknowledge the humans. They were all armed with rifles.
They turned a corner to what looked like a dead end. Hitomi exchanged worried glances with the other three.
But then, the wall slid open, revealing a metallic staircase. It curved in circles both up and down. They stepped onto the wide steps and followed the pair of guards upwards, their footfalls echoing like plates being smashed. Behind, the rock entrance to the staircase slid closed.
Another pair of armed guards appeared at the top of the stairs, in full armor and helmets. They stared stonily forward, their eyes completely blocked out by the visors. Their mouths reflected a pure lack of emotion, almost like statues.
They passed through and into a whirlwind of activity.
“Wow,” Dave exclaimed.
It was a tall cavern filled with several fighter-jet looking aircraft, all raised vertically like spaceships ready to fire off, though there wasn't any openings for them to launch out of. The aircraft were about three times longer than the fighter jets of the world they had left behind, but they had shorter wings, and no engines Hitomi could see. Like one of her brother's models.
The machines all emanated a hum, not too loud, but noisy enough to indicate they were ready to go. Each of the jets were surrounded by angels, all busily working on them. Some were on the ground, some hovered, their wings extended.
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