by Stuart Slade
USS Normandy, CG-60, Off San Diego, California, Earth
“We got him!” Serafina’s triumphant cheer swept through the Pit, bringing the AAW crew to their feet, howling with delight. “All four 156s, they went off all around him. He’s toast!” The Pit descended into a chaos of backslapping and high-fives.
“Can we confirm that?” Pelranius was loath to put a damper on the celebrations but he had done a tour in Hell and he knew how hard these Netherworld creatures were to kill. If the stories were true, Uriel was one of the top-ranking Archangels in Heaven. If they were anything like as tough as the Archdukes…. Asmodeus had been blown up by a ton of C4, his head riddled with bullets from a .50 rifle and he had still needed a salvo of AT-4 anti-tank rockets to finish him. Beelzebub, hit by two Mavericks and riddled with 30mm fire from two Warthogs, Deumos, her brains scrambled and her body fried by rocket exhausts, Satan himself, two massive shaped charges to the chest and head. Uriel was in that league and Pelranius really doubted if four RIM-156s would be enough to do the job.
“Damn, no!” The cry of disappointment was heart-felt. “He’s still flying. Designating with SPY-1 now.”
Serafina flipped the designation beam she had formed up to maximum power, sub-consciously noting the rumbling turbines below her, and locked it in on Uriel. Almost immediately the creature started to writhe in mid-air then lost control of itself and started to fall. The pencil-beam tracked him down to where the ridgeline provided a radar horizon with dead ground beyond it. Serafina thumped in the control inputs and four RIM-174s exploded from the aft launch silo, heading out for the location Uriel was heading into. They were faster and longer-ranged than the RIM-156s and their terminal radar homing was optimized to pick up and track low-flying targets in highly-cluttered backgrounds. As Uriel fell, the SPY-1 beam tracked him down. On the way, it intercepted some power lines stretched along the ridge and destroyed them in a spectacular display of electrical flashes and the showering cascade caused by melting wire and blown insulators.
Home of Caroline Howarth, Eucalyptus Hills, California.
It was gone, it was over. She and Rex had survived. The blackness had vanished with the rolling thunder of the explosions overhead. They had to be missiles, just had to be. Either the Army or the Navy had come to the rescue and driven Uriel away. Air was flowing into her lungs again, without the dreadful effort to suck it in and force it out. She could sense blood flowing through her arteries and veins, bringing oxygen and life back to her body. Slowly, shakily, she got up, her legs reluctant to support her, and looked around her room. Then, she lost her balance and fell as there were another series of explosions from north of the township. They shook the floor, sending dust falling from the ceiling. A moment later there was a screaming noise that she guessed was the sound of the inbound missiles.
She turned around, fearing that Rex hadn’t made it, but the dog was stretched out on the floor, panting for air. Alive. She took a closer look, there was blood around his muzzle but he seemed to be all right. Then she looked closer, some of the brown and black hairs had turned gray. She stood up and went over to the silver foil that lined the walls. It wasn’t a good mirror but she could see there were thin lines, crow’s feet, around her eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there before and the luster of her black hair had dulled and been tinged with gray.
She was alive, and it seemed that the scars of the battle were a small price to pay for that. She decided what she did need was a cup of tea. “Hey, Rex, you want a nice steak?” He deserved a treat.
Rex thought about that carefully. He knew that there was a leg of lamb in the refrigerator and that was what he really wanted – and had intended to steal as soon as he could work out a way to do it. But, a steak would do just fine until his human was careless enough to leave the kitchen door open.
USS Normandy, CG-60, Off San Diego, California, Earth
“He’s down, behind the ridgeline.” Serafina was reading the displays and her fingers danced over the controls. “This is Axehorn calling all aircraft. We have Uriel down behind the ridgeline north of Eucalyptus Hills, he’s hurt bad but still living we think. All aircraft converge and search.”
“We’ve got word from the DIMO(N) net. No dropped frames so no portal formed, he’s still here.”
“Wonder why he doesn’t portal out?” Pelranius was intrigued.
“Sir, have you any idea how much energy we’re pumping out? I doubt if there’s a television left unexploded in South California. Just a guess, but I think we’re jamming him.”
“What about the aircraft closing in? Won’t they be at risk?”
“Not on surveillance mode and I’ve got the designation beams turned off. We can flip back to war mode in seconds if we need it.”
“Axehorn, this is CAP-Three- One-One I’m heading for Eucalyptus Hills now. Intend to stay below flight level ten. Please advise fast movers to stay above that.”
“Will do CAP-Three-One-One.”
There was a bleep and the special channel activated. “Axehorn, this is Habu-zero-one. I’m turning round to come back in. Require clearance on flight and speed.”
“Habu-zero-one, your choice, up where you are, nobody else can go.”
“Nice of you to say so Axehorn. Be advised I’ll have sideways-looking radar on. If something’s big and nasty down there I’ll spot it. What did you do to Uriel?”
“Whacked him with four RIM-156s and four 174s then fried him with a full-power designation beam.”
“Ohhh nasty. Well done Axehorn. Habu-Zero-One out.”
“Another conversation that never happened.” Pelranius spoke heavily.
“Exactly.” Serafina smiled at him and mouthed very quietly, “Aurora.”
Home of Caroline Howarth, Eucalyptus Hills, California.
Everything was out, radio, television, cellphones. Caroline Howarth had given up her landline telephone and used a cell phone for all her calls, now she bitterly regretted doing so. Her computer was down as well, and, looking out of the window she could see that Santee was blacked out. North of the town, helicopters were already searching the ridges and valleys while a light aircraft circled, hunting further out.
There was a banging at the door. Rex ran across and barked at the intruder, itching for a fight he could get his teeth into. She grabbed his collar and opened the door. A National Guard soldier was standing there, a clipboard in his hands.
“Whoa, old feller, I’m a friend. Miss Caroline Howarth?” He looked at the list, it said the registered owner of the house was 32 years old, this woman looked like a well-preserved fifty. “I’m sorry, is she your daughter?”
She shook her head. “I’m her. And Rex is four years old.” Then she saw the look on his face and it made her laugh, a laugh that turned into a cough. One that left speckles of blood on her hand. “You don’t fight the Angel of Death to a draw and walk away unscarred.”
Chapter Twenty Five
Headquarters, League of the Holy Court, Eternal City
The problem was that the investigations into these conspiracies was bogging down in a maze of low-level minions whose importance, and worst of all, knowledge of the higher ranks, was minimal. Lemuel-Lan-Michael was now convinced that there were indeed two parallel conspiracies of radically different characters and objectives. Those differences meant that there were very few points of contact between the two, it seemed as if it had been pure luck that The League had picked up one of those few contact points. Without them having done so, and without the bottle of elixir to start the investigation rolling, neither conspiracy would have been discovered. The thought of that eventuality made Lemuel’s stomach clench with terror. The whole foundations of Heaven could have been threatened.
He paced backwards and forwards in his office until the panic at what might have been faded, then resumed his seat. Once more, reading the reports from the handful of trusted agents who were investigating the main cabal, the differences between it and the second one that was his own interest, stood out. It was
n’t just the differences in organization although they were striking enough. It was the beliefs that seemed to be so different, or more precisely, the contrast between the overt dogma of the First Conspiracy and the seeming lack of any defining ideology in the other. In his own investigations, he had been unable to find any ideological system that defined the Second Conspiracy. It seemed that the only link that existed to unify them was their taste for human products and goods.
Lemuel shook his head and returned to the report on the First Conspiracy. He had finally managed to find a Malachim whose membership in the higher ranks of the cabal wasn’t matched by the protection extended by his Lord. That Lord had been one of the angels martyred in the pouring of the First Bowl of Wrath and his demise at the hands of the Humans had left his retinue adrift without patronage. Fortunately for Lemuel and unfortunately for him, their victim hadn’t found a new patron before The League had picked him up. Lemuel read the interrogation results again and tapped the scroll on his desk, he would have to take this to Michael-Lan.
Michael-Lan’s Office, Temple of Righteous Ardor, Eternal City
“And so what have you come up with Lemuel?” Michael-Lan smiled in greeting as Lemuel entered his office, knelt and swept his wings forward to cover his face. “Come, there’s no need for such deference, we’re old comrades after all.”
“Michael-Lan, my investigators have now found out more about the cabal that concerned us.” The phraseology perturbed Michael and he waved Lemuel to continue. “We now have an insight into the thoughts and beliefs of those who form this group. They believe that the humans are being unjustly treated here in Heaven, that having earned their salvation down on Earth, they should benefit from more of the riches and pleasures of the Eternal City. They believe that the decision to close the Gates of Heaven was mistaken and that, once again, worthy humans should be allowed to take up residence here.”
“They challenge the wisdom of the One Above All?” Michael-Lan’s voice shook with rage and outside the building, a roll of thunder echoed across the iridescent structure. That made Michael-Lan feel absurdly pleased with himself, he had always envied Yahweh’s ability to conjure up thunderstorms at will.
“No, my Lord, even they would not dare look so high. They believe that The Nameless Lord of All has been mislead and deceived by treacherous and self-seeking advisors. They believe that if The All-Knowing Father was made aware of the injustices committed in his name, then he would drive out those advisors and remedy the results of their sinful hubris. They believe that The One Above All would appoint his son as his advisor and chamberlain to replace those advisors who betrayed his trust. My Lord Michael-Lan, it shames me to even speak the words but they name you as one of those advisors who have lead the One Above All Astray. Hence my need to come here so urgently.”
Michael-Lan nodded slowly in acknowledgement. “You have done very well indeed my old friend.” Interesting. Now who is it who wants me out? Salaphael and Azrael are both in reduced favor at this point. Either of them could have hatched this plot but the bit about Yah-Yah not being aware of these so-called injustices smacks of Salaphael. He’s just dumb enough to believe all that. “And you believe that they are bringing up goods from Earth to bribe humans into becoming their supporters?”
That idea stopped Lemuel in his tracks. He honestly hadn’t thought of that interpretation. He mulled it over for a few seconds then discarded it. “Michael-Lan, that would be one possibility but I believe the evidence runs against it. We have found no trace of human goods in the cabal beyond the single bottle of elixir. Nor does the ideology of the group run in favor of this suggestion. From what we have been able to assemble, they are only concerned with the practical policies here in Heaven and theological debates over salvation and the fate of the humans down on Earth. Material goods and wealth do not mean much to them. Their prime concern is prayer and worship. In that, of course, they do not represent any major change for who amongst us does not reverence the All-Seeing Father?”
Me for a start, Michael thought, and you would be surprised how many others. “So where does the supply of human goods fit into this picture? If they are not bribes to obtain the support of the humans, then what are they?”
Lemuel took a deep breath. “Michael-Lan, I believe there is a second conspiracy, one quite separate from the first. One that is deeper and more far-reaching than the first for it would change the very nature of Heaven. It would replace our devout worship of the All-Seeing Father with a hedonistic lifestyle based around luxury and indulgence. Our austere and spiritual existence would be replaced by one of excess and materialism. We would become like the humans down on Earth.
Well done Lemuel, you’ve got the objectives down perfectly. And has it ever occurred to you that becoming like the humans down on Earth is the only way Heaven can survive? And that with Yah-yah running things, that change will never happen? There are 750 million angels up hear in Heaven and if the humans from Earth break in and find out what ‘salvation’ really meant for the humans who were allowed to enter here, they’re going to slaughter the lot of us. And mass slaughter is something humans are very good at. “A second conspiracy you say? Lemuel, old friend, are you sure that your search for conspiracy is not leading you astray? Remember what the humans say ‘Look for a conspiracy and you will find it, even if it isn’t there.’ Two parallel conspiracies is a hard thing to swallow.”
“I know, Noble Leader. I felt the same thing and spent many hours in prayer and contemplation, searching my soul for the true light of belief and trying to rid myself of hubris and suspicion. I have been carrying out quiet and tactful investigations of the Second Conspiracy and, yes, it does exist. Recently we arrested Almedha, daughter of Brychan and submitted her to interrogation. Human methods of course. She confessed to her part although she knew little of what was happening other than that Ishmael was able to provide her with human spices to enliven her diet. But, what she did know was interesting for its omissions rather than its content. She made no mention of ideology of theology, made no suggestions of beliefs whether traditional or heretical. It appears that the Second Conspiracy extends to indulgence and nothing more.”
“Saint Almedha.” Michael spoke thoughtfully. “I would wish to speak with this human.” He stepped away from his desk and called out for one of his Elohim messengers. When the herald arrived, he spoke very quietly to him and then sent him on his way. “She will be brought here soon. So, my old friend, where do we go from here?”
“We have been trying to break into the Second Conspiracy from the outside but our successes have been minor. We are barely able to confirm that such a conspiracy actually exists let alone learn much about it. It is strange, its security is much tighter than that of the First Conspiracy despite the fact that it lacks internal protection by subdivision. Investigating the First Conspiracy is like tunnelling through a wall, its just a matter of removing brick by brick. But the Second Conspiracy is like trying to grasp hold of smoke, every handful turns to nothing and slips away. We can get nowhere from outside.”
“And so?”
“We must penetrate the Second Conspiracy and try to investigate it from the inside. I will do this myself, instead of seizing and interrogating any members of the Second Conspiracy we detect, I will try to ingratiate myself with them, suggest I share their aims and desires. That way, will with have sure information to act on.”
“A wise plan, old friend, but one that is hazardous to you.” Michael paused as his Elohim herald came back and spoke quietly into his ear. “A hazard of which we now have proof. I regret to inform you that Almedha, daughter of Brychan, has died under interrogation.”
“I gave no orders for further interrogation!” Lemuel was furious. “I ordered that she be detained, nothing more. Who was responsible for this?”
“The guards claim that they were using their initiative to gain additional information. But, I would suggest that perhaps she was killed on the orders of others to shut her mouth. Your work will indeed be
dangerous Lemuel, keep word of it strictly between ourselves and let none know of it.”
White House Conference Room, White House, Washington D.C.
“In California, the hunt for Uriel is now entering its second day. The Archangel Uriel is believed to have been badly wounded during his attack on Eucalyptus Hills and is now in hiding somewhere in the hills of Southern California. United States Volunteers and aircraft from numerous military bases in the area are combing the area in their effort to find Uriel. Local law enforcement officials say that they have numerous leads on his location and believe that he will be found shortly.
“On the international scene, Thai troops of the Human Expeditionary Army have entered Moulmein and isolated the southern half of Myanmar from the main body of the country to the North. Spokesmen at HEA Headquarters state that the Myanmar leadership was inspired to open this war by Heavenly intervention and that the successful course of the campaign represents humanity’s first successful counter-strike against … . . “
“Is that true?” President Obama glanced around the conference room for an answer.
“Even if it isn’t, it is.” Defense Secretary Warner noted the confusion on Obama’s face. “Regardless of what the truth of the matter is, that has to be the interpretation we put on it. Most of the countries of the world have put the best of their armies into the HEA and left their own countries very vulnerable. That’s an open temptation for the few countries that haven’t joined in to exploit the situation. So, we have to make it clear that any attack on any country that’s part of the HEA will be met by a response from the full force of that Army, otherwise countries will pull their contributions out and the whole war effort will fall apart. Which may be why we’re seeing these threatened attacks of course. Not that we expect many, the only ones that seem pending other than this border war are a North Korean attack on South Korea and a Venezuelan assault on Honduras. The latter seems fairly remote at this time while North Korean behavior is odd, there’s lots of movement and activity in the North but none of it means very much. Units move south, then east, then west, then back north before repeating the whole procedure.”