by Stuart Slade
Lemuel nodded. “I am sorry Doctor.” What neither of them knew was that was the first time in more than four millennia that an angel had made a sincere apology to a human.
UH-60L Quebec-Four-Two, Approaching Bethesda, Maryland.
“An angel. A real, live angel.” Norman Baines was as close to ecstatic as he’d ever been.
“Two of them in fact. Only one of them won’t be talking to anybody for a long time. She’s in intensive care and the medics are still iffy about whether she will survive.” General Schatten hoped that she would, it would make maneuvering her mate so much easier. He looked at Baines and shook his head slightly. Their trip had been slightly delayed while the Director of Research had been found in the archives by his secretary, cleaned up and quickly fed.
“What happened? We shoot her up as she came in?”
“That’s what we are trying to get a handle on and that is why you are here. Her mate brought her in. She’s been badly treated, lost a lot of blood and her mate said that Yahweh ordered it done. His version is that a woman Yahweh favors was jealous of her so Yahweh ordered her to be imprisoned and beaten. Her mate rescued her and brought her here so we could treat her. His story is pretty incoherent.”
The sound of the rotors diminished as the pilot brought the UH-60 in to land. The helicopter landing area was full to capacity with a variety of different birds including one massive helicopter with red-and-blue stars painted on its tail and wings. “What’s that.” Baines pointed at the big helicopter.
“Russian Mi-26. When they heard we have two angels, the Russkies sent it over in case we needed heavy lift capability. Stuffed it up with medical goodies for the angels and vodka for us to celebrate. Look over to the left, we’ve got a Hellgate open to speed transport here. I hear kitten herself opened that one. That’s how the ‘26 came in.”
The helicopter landed on the road outside the medical center and the passengers disembarked, making the traditional bend down in deference to the wash coming off the rotors. “Sirs, if you will come with me, I’ll take you to the Angelic Treatment Ward.” Once they would have ridden in an Army staff car or Humvee but the fuel shortage had put an end to those pretensions. These days, even Generals walked.
Much of the frantic chaos that had surrounded the angelic arrival in Bethesda had ebbed away by the time they reached the treatment area. All the necessary equipment was set up, the female angel was stabilized on life support and all that was left was to watch and wait. The male angel was sitting on the grass outside, his head between his knees. That was convenient since it minimized the size difference between him and the humans.
“I’m Norman Baines, Director of Research at DIMO(N) Office of Nonhuman History and Research. How is your mate?”
“Maion is resting comfortably so I am told. The doctors say she is in a chemically-induced therapeutic coma. I hope that means more to you than it does to me.”
Baines looked at the angel carefully. “You are of high rank are you not? May I know your name?”
“I am Lemuel-Lan-Michael. I am Ophanim.” Lemuel paused for a moment “You know the Hierarchy of the Angelic Host?”
“In outline, yes. Ophanim is very close to the top is it not? And you are a servant of Michael himself, the Great General of Heaven?”
“What is going on?” Schatten was a General, he was supposed to be the one who treated people like mushrooms.
“We’ve got a real catch here. ‘Lan’ means ‘servant of’. Lemuel here is a direct servant of Michael-Lan-Yahweh which puts him two steps below the supreme power. He’s an Ophanim which puts him very close to the apex of the Host hierarchy. The holy texts describe the Ophanim as being four, eye-covered wheels each composed of two nested wheels. It’s long been thought that the description is symbolic and actually refers to the Ophanim as being the powers that actually keep Heaven running. If Lemuel is defecting to us, its like, oh, the Secretary of State going over to the enemy.” Baines shook with sheer delight. “Lemuel, what was your role in Heaven?”
“I was chief investigator of the League of Holy Court.”
“If our references are anything like correct, the League of Holy Court is Yahweh’s very own police force and intelligence service. Forget what I said about the Secretary of State going over, this is like the head of the KGB coming over to us in the middle of the Cold War.” Baines spoke quietly, then turned his attention back to Lemuel. “Why did you come here Lemuel-Lan-Michael?”
“Maion was badly hurt and might die. Michael-Lan said that only humans could save her.” Lemuel gathered his breath and finally committed himself. The outburst from Doctor Zinder was still running through his mind and he thought of the way the doctors and nurses were fighting to save a being who they had never met before and, if anything, was one of their enemies. Yet the sights, sounds and smells of the concentration camp where Yahweh dealt with his foes still swirled in his head and the contrast between the two was tearing his soul apart. When he spoke, he did so very fast as if he was trying to get the words out and commit himself before he could change his mind. “Yahweh has gone mad and is destroying the Angelic Host. He has established camps run by demons where angels who he dislikes are sent. Maion was a victim of one such camp. He is creating factions in Heaven and putting one against the other. After seeing one such camp, Michael-Lan sent me with a message for humans. He says that he will fight Yahweh, try to prevent more slaughter and destruction. He will try and depose Yahweh but he desperately needs help. He tasks me with opening a portal for you so that you can send your armies to depose Yahweh and your … . doctors … to aid those who have been so cruelly used. If you will allow me, I will open the way to Heaven for you.”
Chapter Sixty Three
Angelic Treatment Ward, Bethesda Naval Hospital, Bethesda, MD
“I’m sorry ma’am, but I’m afraid the helicopter operations are a military necessity.” Chief Petty Officer Michaela Harris silently raised her eyebrows and shook her head in exasperation. “Yes, I do know that the big helicopter is likely to make your house shake when it takes off. Unfortunately, we need its lifting capacity… … No, ma’am, any casualties can’t wait until morning … … Well, it is your privilege to call your Congressman but I should advise you that he is one of the volunteers out here helping us with our work… … Now, there is no need to use language like that.” She hung the phone up, paused a second and pushed the button for the next line. “Bethesda Naval Hospital, CPO Harris speaking… … Why, thank you Sir, we are always in need of blood donations here. Sir, if you would like to come along tomorrow morning, the U.S. Volunteers on guard will direct you to the correct area. Thank you for your patriotic offer, Sir, and have a good day.”
“Rough time Chief?” Colonel Paschal was sympathetic.
“Calls backed up to the Potomac and beyond. People are guessing something is going on from all the air movements and that Russian Mi-26 is attracting a lot of attention. Mostly, people seem to think there’s been a big skirmish in Hell and there are a lot of casualties coming in.”
“Wait until tomorrow morning when the real news breaks.” He was interrupted by the noise of yet another UH-60 coming in to land. He glanced across at the bird, it was an old one, probably a boneyard recovery, and didn’t have hellfilters. “Carry on with the good work Chief. My package has just arrived.”
Paschal ran over to where the helicopter was spooling down. Five figures were getting out, four prison guards and a single female figure in orange coveralls. “Why, Miss Branch. I hope you enjoyed your flight here.”
She looked at him dully. At least, her appearance was better now she’d been taken out of General Population and housed in a Supermax. For many prisoners, Supermax was a haven rather than a restriction. Branch was one, Paschal seriously believed that if she had been left in General Population, she’d be dead by now. As it was, she just stared at him, saying nothing.
“We’ve got a special privilege for you Miss Branch. A pair of Angels have just defected to us and we thoug
ht you might like to meet them. One of them is a close associate of your old friend Michael. The other is his mate. You”ll be really interested in meeting her although she isn’t really up to speaking yet. We’ll start with Lemuel-Lan-Michael. By the way, any word of your family yet? No? Ah well, they must still be in the Hellpit somewhere. Don’t worry, we’ll get to them sooner or later.”
“They’re in Heaven. Yahweh promised.” The words came out in a dogmatic pout that reminded Paschal of a child stamping his foot and swearing ‘it ain’t so.’
“Miss Branch, as far as we can make out, no modern residents of Earth went to Heaven. None at all.”
“That’s not true Colonel.” Lemuel had heard the remark as they approached him. “There are some modern humans in Heaven. Michael rescued them. He has them hidden in his organization. At first I did not know it was he who had saved them from Hell, it was only when we rescued Maion than I realized it. But, they are the ones he was able to rescue and those that he could find hiding places for. There is only so much he could do.”
Oh great, that’s all we needed, Pashal thought. Finding out that the Great General Michael-Lan has actually been emulating Oskar Schindler.
“Lemuel-Lan, would you tell this young lady what happened to you and Maion please?”
For Lemuel, it was something in the way of a cathartic release. The story poured out, how he had started investigating one small conspiracy, how the investigation had mushroomed as more and more leads had led to the discovery of additional conspiracies. It ended with him finding Maion in Yahweh’s concentration camp and escaping to Earth so she could be saved by human medicine. By the time it ended, Branch was weeping, at least partly in response to Maion’s fate but mostly at her own disintegrating beliefs.
“You’re lying. None of it is true.” It was the same, child-stamping-its-foot tone again.
“Come with me.” Paschal led her into the tent that housed Maion. Even surrounded by medical equipment, most of her face covered by an extemporized breathing mask and her wings surrounded by a maze of timber splits, she was still stunningly beautiful. That only seemed to highlight the injuries she had received. “You see Miss Branch? Yahweh did this, or to be more accurate, he ordered it done. Angels can’t lie, that’s what your belief says isn’t it? If your beliefs are true and Angels can’t lie, then what Lemuel-Lan told you is true. Yahweh did this because another female angel was jealous of Maion. If angels can lie, then that proves that your beliefs are wrong anyway.”
It was the final blow to the core of Kathryn Branch’s beliefs. The simple presence of Lemuel on Earth, the battered figure in front of her and the story that linked them together was the end. The faith that had kept her going through months of imprisonment crumbled as inexorably as a sand castle facing the incoming tide. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything, but we’ll start with one key question. The attack on DIMO(N) at Fort Bragg. You told Michael-Lan about DIMO(N)?”
“Yes.” The words came out between sobs. “It was to protect Heaven. He said that humans couldn’t attack Heaven if DIMO(N) was destroyed.”
Paschal sat back slightly. “Right Miss Branch. Now, we’ll start from the beginning and you can tell us everything that happened since the day of The Message.” And after we’ve finished with you, we’ll get to work on that worm Yitzhak.
War Room, The White House, Washington D.C.
“Welcome back Mister President.” General Schatten seemed inordinately pleased with himself. “Did you enjoy the brief excursion to Andrews?”
“When I used ‘yes we can’ as our election slogan, I didn’t expect it to be used in the context of ‘yes we can pick you up, throw you in a helicopter and fly you out of the city at a moment’s notice’. The Secret Service can be very insistent sometimes.” The President’s voice was a curious mixture of amusement, anger and resentment, liberally mixed with admiration for the efficiency of the system that had got him out of the danger zone so quickly.
“Back in the day, Mister President, we had minutes, perhaps seconds, to try and get the command authority secured. The one thing we disliked intensely was the idea of a decapitation strike. We’d thought that one through ourselves and gave it up as counter-productive but we were never quite sure the opposition had come to the same conclusion. So, the whole scheme was set up to preserve the national command authority. Still is come to that. The Secret Service have an absolute duty to protect you. If you think this was bad, ask about the rows that took place when your predecessor wanted one of the museum recovery F-102s as the ‘Presidential Interceptor’. The Secret Service almost went into orbit at that idea. “
“I did not like the idea of leaving Michelle and the children behind.” The President had been distinctly unhappy about that part of the emergency evacuation and had made his opinions very clear.
“Believe it or not, Sir, nor did we. There are various plans that apply to different levels of warning. This one was probably the most time-critical. If the rocks were about to start coming down, we had to get you clear at any cost. Under those circumstances, if the First Family aren’t immediately available, they have to follow later.”
“I don’t like that. I want those plans revised; get the contractors we employ to work on it.”
“Yes Sir. The good news is, Sir, there is lots of good news. It wasn’t a rock attack, it was two angels escaping from Heaven. We have two high-class defectors and one of them has already stated he will open a portal to heaven for us. The long stalemate is over Sir. Assuming that our defector is operating in good faith, and we already have every reason to believe that he is, then we have our way into Heaven.”
“Does General Petraeus know? And how about the rest of the Yamantau Council?”
“General Petraeus, yes. He was told while you were on board your helicopter coming back here. He’s getting the plans ready for the assault now. Yamantau? Not officially although the Russians know unofficially. So do the Irish. Official word hasn’t gone out yet though.”
“The Irish? How did that happen?”
“One of the Angels coming through has had her wing joints crushed. Deliberately, on Yahweh’s orders. Anyway, the doctor on the scene contacted the Royal Hospital in Belfast for help. They treated a lot of crushed joints from IRA kneecappings and he needed expert advice. It leaked out from there. One thing Sir, and this is something Yamantau certainly do not know yet. It’s beginning to look as if Michael-Lan may be an ally, not an enemy. Or, at least, he may be an enemy we can work with.”
“I find that hard to believe. Remember Tel Aviv?”
“That wasn’t Michael-Lan’s work Sir. We believe that was carried out by another angel, Azrael. And Azrael is very strongly linked with Yahweh. We’ve been looking at Michael-Lan’s work and he does seem to have concentrated his attacks on military targets. Pretty much so anyway. Our initial assessment is that he was a Yahweh loyalist until something went badly wrong and caused a split between the two. By the way, we also have strong evidence he’s been rescuing humans from Hell and hiding them away in Heaven. We might have found our heavenly Abigor Sir. That’s something for you to take to Yamantau. There’s a meeting there scheduled for morning.”
“I can’t get there by then.”
“Portals Sir, you must learn to think in portals. We’ll set one up from here to Hell and one from Hell to Yamantau. You can be there in minutes. Don’t forget to take your breathing filter.”
Dover Air Force Base, Delaware, US
“What we want you to do, Lemuel, is to open up a small portal to Heaven. One that’s a long way away from habitation or anything that will draw attention to us. Or warn people that we have a way into Heaven.” Colonel Paschal had flown in a V-22 to get to Dover AFB, Lemuel had flown under his own power. He’d spent the rest of the night at Bethesda giving the humans as much information as he could about the geography of Heaven.
“I do not understand.” Lemuel was bewildered. “The angels suffering in Yahweh’s prison, they need hel
p right away.”
“We’ve got a saying down here. Hasten slowly.” Colonel Warhol had arrived from Hell by through the permanent Hellgate a few miles west of the air base and his uniform was still coated with helldust. “There’s another. Time spent in reconnaissance is seldom wasted. We want to know what we’re getting into.”
“Speaking of reconnaissance, the Predator should be up by now. Lemuel, the gate if you please.”
“We using an Air Force bird?” Paschal was curious. This whole situation had come apart so fast, everybody was playing patch, grabbing whatever assets could be used.
“No. CIA. In fact the guy flying it is the same man who flew one through Abigor’s Hellgate a couple of years back. I guess the CIA do have a sense of humor.”
Paschal and Warhol looked at each other. “Naaah.”
“Lemuel, we want to send a recon bird in to tell us what Heaven is like. We lost people, quite a lot of people, because we weren’t properly prepared when we went into Hell. So, we’re going to send a Predator in. That’s an unmanned aircraft and it’ll be carrying a reconnaissance pack that will take air samples and other environmental data. Provided that shows us everything is OK, we will have a battle group on the ground in hours. Now, if you could please open up the portal. Big enough to take one of those.” Warhol pointed at a Predator on the ground a few yards away.
Lemuel concentrated and the familiar black ellipse opened up close to the ground. The Predator assigned to the mission dived down and flew through the portal. Ten minutes later, it reappeared, its shining gray and white paintwork still pristine.
The Yamantau Council, Yamantau National Redoubt, Russia