Pantheocide

by Stuart Slade

  When it burst, Yahweh’s defense bubble just vanished. Swamped and overwhelmed by the energy thrown at it, it was scattered and absorbed. Yahweh was consumed by the sheets of lightning that enveloped him. They crushed him, drowned him, they cast him down. By the time they were finished, the vast figure that had once dominated the Throne Room was crushed to a size no greater than the greatest of his Angels. It was slumped on the throne itself and was still.

  Leilah-Lan left the group standing at the foot of the throne, the heels of her boots clicking on the jade. Her whip lashed out, just as it had once before, but this time the lash curled around Yahweh’s foot. She started to pull, intending to drag his body off the throne but she lacked the strength. Others came to help her and between them, they managed to shift the still, gray form off the pedestal and drag it to the floor below.

  Michael-Lan stood, looking down at the dead body with something very close to disbelief in his heart. It seemed impossible that, after all the planning and manipulation, the battle really was over. For a brief second he couldn’t help but wonder what he would do next. After centuries spent plotting Yahweh’s downfall, the completion of the task was almost an anti-climax. The thought didn’t last long. The humans are still out there and I have to stop them blasting their way into the City. Then he looked around and watched the other Angels slowly gathering around Yahweh’s body. They looked down, bewildered and lost.

  “Oh Great And Incomparable Father Of Us All.” Michael turned towards the speaker. It was Raguel, an obsequious expression on his face. Typical of him. Trying to curry favor once the fighting was done. Yahweh’s most loyal supporter and the first to change sides when he was cast down. Michael crushed the thought down.

  “My name is Michael, remember? We went though all this so that kind of ridiculous posturing would be forgotten.” He paused and then put all the emphasis he could into the next four words. “My name is Michael.”

  He looked around him, trying to gauge the mood of the crowd. There was something he had to do right now, so that at least one of his team would be properly rewarded. “Leilah-Lan. You are the only Erelim in my inner circle. Yet you came here first and were the first to strike a blow at Yahweh. I raise you to Chayot Ha Kadesh, the highest of all ranks of Archangel.” He reached out and laid his hand upon her head. To his surprise he felt power running through his hands and he saw Leilah standing tall. Was she raised in more than just name? Michael honestly did not know.

  “There is much to be done if we are to survive. First, we must clear this place up.” He looked down at the body on the floor. “Somebody throw that in the lake. Where’s the Master Mason? Zacharael-Lan, take that throne down, break it up, chop it up, whatever. I don’t care. Just get rid of it and throw the bits in the lake as well. Use them to weigh Yahweh’s body down. Then, up on the dais where it used to be, I want a table and a set of chairs. Normal sized ones for us. Heaven will be ruled in future by discussion and agreement between free people. Not by the whims of a single dictator. We’ll hold the meetings up there and they will be free for all to watch.”

  Michael paused and looked around again. “Raphael, when you have recovered, I have a special task for you. I want you to fly to the commander of the human army and tell him we surrender. Tell him that I am declaring The Eternal City to be an open city. It will not be defended and we will throw the gates of the city open to his army as soon as we find out how they work. If we can’t we will ask his assistance in blowing them open. When you go, make sure you have the biggest white flag you can find and wave it as energetically as you can. Otherwise they are quite likely to blow you out of the sky.”

  “We surrender One Ab … … Michael?” Raguel sounded confused and slightly belligerent.

  “Of course we do. We make peace with the humans as fast as we can, before they start shooting. Remember what they did to the Incomparable Legion Of Light? They blew it up, so decisively that the smoke from its destruction darkens our skies and chills our air. They did that with one of their bombs and that one far from their most powerful. Do you want to see their most powerful ones hitting this city? They will, you know. They will study this city and decide that taking it by storm will be far more trouble than it is worth. So they will blow it up and all of us with it. That’s why we have done what we have done. If Yahweh had remained in charge here, he would have killed us all.”

  There was a plan to fulfil still and Michael knew it had to go on, even with the lethargy of exhaustion clouding his mind. “Gabriel, spread the word of what has happened here. Tell everybody that Yahweh has gone, there will be no more purges or mass arrests, that the prisoners taken by Yahweh will be released. Tell them of the concentration camp Yahweh had built and what was done there. Also, make sure everybody knows what happened to the Incomparable Legion of Light as a result of Yahweh starting this futile war. Above all, make sure everybody knows that the humans are coming and that Yahweh’s elimination means we can save the city from their attack. Rest before you go though.”

  Raphael-Lan and Gabriel-Lan waved in acknowledgement to him. Michael-Lan paced across the shattered floor and stared at the choirs and the strange creatures that had once decorated the room. The sight made him realize he had another job for the master mason. “Oh, Zacharael-Lan. We need more light in here. Could you make some holes in the walls please? When you get a chance.”

  “What of us?” The soft, sibilant voice from the leader of the choir grabbed at Michael’s attention. “What do we do?”

  “Anything you like.” He looked at the members of the choir with sympathy. They were the last survivors of their kind, an ancient race that had been first seduced and then enslaved by Yahweh. When he had tired of them and found others to take their place, they had been cast down. Some might survive in the very depths of Hell. If so, the humans would find them and look after them.

  “We know of nothing to do. Except to sing praises.”

  Michael-Lan shook his head. “Don’t worry. We’ll find an honorable place for you.” Then, a thought occurred to him. “Charmeine-Lan, go to the Montmartre and tell the guys there that they can stop playing now. Thank them from me for everything they’ve done. We’ve won. All of us.”

  Chapter Seventy Seven

  The Himilheothon Gate, The Eternal City, Heaven

  Thirty eight thousand tons. The number echoed through Corporal William Bodie’s mind as he shuffled up to the smaller doors set in the massive Himilheothon Gate. That estimated weight excluded the pearls that studded the wooden structure. Set in the road surface were dozens of curved strips of bronze that provided a path for the wheels at the foot of the Gate. What the ground pressure under the wheels amounted to, Bodie didn’t know and didn’t care. In any case he seriously doubted whether the main gate could be opened. It looked frozen in place from uncounted millennia of static disuse. Only the smaller doors were regularly opened and closed. Through them, a constant stream of second-life humans were entering the city.

  The great wall of Heaven loomed over him. A hundred meters high and at least fifty thick. There was no way the track-head and the rest of the armies closing in on The Eternal City were going to get through that. It rather amused Bodie that he and the rest of the team had simply walked through the gate and thus became the first living humans inside The Eternal City. It helped matters, of course, that the Angels had such an appalling idea of security. The Ishim guarding the gate simply gave a wooden marker to each human as he went in and it was collected again as the human left. The whole system was designed to ensure that no human had the temerity to stay inside The Eternal City a moment longer than was necessary for them to pursue their duties. Faced with its first serious challenge, it had failed completely. But then, it had failed when faced by people who were unequalled experts at making security systems fail.

  Bodie joined the stream of people passing through the doors, sliding unobtrusively past the Ishim on duty there. This was the point where amateurs always got it wrong. They either overplayed the nonchalant
bit or were too obviously trying to avoid detection. The great art was simply to behave the way everybody else did. Anyway, Bodie already had his marker. It was a forgery of course, but that really didn’t matter. Once he was through the gate any challenge would be answered by his forged token and the Ishim would assume that it had been issued normally. All humans looked the same to them anyway.

  Once through the gate, Bodie set off for the street edge on the south. He paused slightly to adjust the robe he was wearing and tighten the rope belt that held it in place. That same belt also held his pistol although what use a 9mm Sig-Sauer would be here was arguable at best. Pistol calibers had been ‘redefined’ since the Salvation War had started. Still, the P226 had a nice, comforting bulk to it. He glanced up; the sky still had streaks of dark gray across it. The original sight of heavenly blue skies with just enough small fluffy clouds to provide contrast had gone. When the Yanks popped that nuke, they had changed a lot of things.

  The city block he approached was crowded by the standards of The Eternal City. It was mostly the abode of Ishim and they didn’t live in the stately palaces occupied by the higher ranks of angels. The homes here reminded Bodie of the council houses he had grown up in. He took a closer look at the buildings in front of him. Studded with semi-precious stones just as those council houses long ago had pebble-dashed walls. The difference was the level of repair, these so-called palaces had plaster that was scabbing away and paint that was faded and peeling. In places, the wooden lathes that reinforced the plaster were visible. The Eternal City was very old, that much was obvious. The trouble was that in this case, old just meant ‘so much more second-hand.’

  Old it might be, and more than slightly run-down, but The Eternal City was still huge. It more than a twenty kilometer walk to the side road Bodie was looking for. Even in the temperate climate of Heaven that was still not something to be taken lightly, especially given the load he was carrying. Eventually, he recognized his turning and took it, heading down an alleyway barely fifty meters across. Here, the stones that embellished the walls were less glittering in their profusion and the signs of neglect and decay were stronger. Occasionally, there were even small areas of rubble on the stone of the streets. Bodie had noticed that, all the legends had said that the streets of the Eternal City were paved with gold but instead, they were a garish bronze-colored marble. Once in a while, the great slabs were cracked. Bodie ignored them; he was too busy counting buildings to worry about the state of the paving. At least that was what he thought until he tripped over one of the cracked slabs and nearly fell flat on his face.

  Finally he reached the building the team had chosen. It was a disused temple, one that appeared to have been abandoned after its structural deterioration had reached dangerous proportions. Bodie climbed up the steps, cursing the fact that even the Ishim were a bit larger than humans and that made their steps uncomfortable to climb. Once in the main hall, he caught his breath and made for the rooms at the rear.

  “No problems getting in and out then Bodie?” Sergeant Doyle was lazing between two fallen columns, a position that allowed him to watch the only entrance to the hall from a concealed yet comfortable position.

  “Like babes in the nursery they are.” Bodie dropped his load with relief. “They’ve got no idea.”

  “That’s not surprising lads. They’ve never had any real infiltration efforts to worry about. Not as far as we know anyway.” Captain Greg Crowleigh was also waiting in a concealed overwatch position. Unlike the guards at the City gates, his team never let their guard down. Although, the SAS team was beginning to wonder if the Angels at the Himilheothon Gate guards had ever had their guard up.

  “They might have a lot more to worry about now.” Bodie had picked up all the intelligence from the Outside Team on his visit. “There’s Chinese armored recon in the woods outside and a Russian Spetsnaz group. They might be in here as well by now.”

  That caused a sudden silence. Crowleigh’s team had never been one of the front-rank SAS sections, not until they had killed the gorgon Lakheenahuknaasi. By an odd quirk of fate that had resulted in them being the first living humans to take up residence in The Eternal City. Killing the gorgon hadn’t lifted them to the top tier of teams but it had put them at the head of the second rank. Only, all the top-tier teams were tied down in Hell trying to get the problems there sorted. So, when this job had come up, Crowleigh and his men had got it. Sometimes things worked in strange ways.

  “We’d better be damned careful then. We don’t want to get our wires crossed. Especially since the HEA don’t know we’re here.” That caused another outbreak of silence. This mission was just about as unofficial as it got. One thing that concerned everybody was whether they would get the word in time if it was decided to nuke the city into oblivion.

  “Any word on how the HEA plans to get into the city?”

  Bodie shook his head. “Rumor mill is working overtime but that wall seems to be chilling everybody. This city is fortified with a capital F. The current story is that the Russians will use gas again.” That remark caused a series of whistles. Everybody remembered what the Russian sarin attack had done at the Phlegethon River.

  “Boss, you’d better hear this.” Private James Dempsey had a recording disk in his hand.

  Crowleigh turned around, frowning at the interruption. “What is it man?”

  “The temple we bugged? Well, there’s just been a meeting in it. The local Ishim were assembled and addressed by an Elohim. The gist of it is that Yahweh is out. Michael-Lan has taken over.”

  “What?” Crowleigh was stunned. “A coup?”

  “It hasn’t been phrased like that. According to the announcement, Yahweh has been so distressed by the death of his son that he has blamed himself and gone into retreat. Apparently he is meditating on his actions and contemplating the future.”

  “Ah, he’s dead then.” Ray Doyle sounded positively chirpy.

  “Undoubtedly. But Jesus has been killed as well?” Crowleigh thought for a second then realized there was more message to come. “What else?”

  “Anyway, the message is that Yahweh has asked Michael-Lan to take over running Heaven until Yahweh considers himself fit to resume absolute rule. Until then, Michael-Lan has appointed a council of angels to help him rule. The first priority is to bring the war with the humans to an end and restore the ‘natural order of things.”

  “We need to get word of this out immediately.” Crowleigh decided that news of this importance had to go directly to Sir Michael Jackson. His orders were to have no contact with HEA headquarters but those orders had never envisaged a situation like this. He shouldered the responsibility for his decision and started the process of getting through to the HEA. In doing so, he and his team finally made it to the top tier of SAS units.

  Over The Human Expeditionary Army, Heaven

  Raphael-Lan-Michael, now offically in charge of communications as part of the provisional government of Heaven, hoped desperately that he was communicating well enough. While his wings drove him through the air towards the heart of the human army on the ground, his arms were desperately waving the largest white flag he had been able to find. In addition, he was frantically transmitting mental messages of surrender even though he guessed that the metal hats humans now wore would prevent those from being received and understood. Still, better to try it and fail than not try at all. Especially with humans around. Their tendancy to shoot first and shoot with lethal effect had been made all too clear.

  Down below, he could see the long snaking columns that were making their way towards The Eternal City. There was no end of them, literally no end as far as he could see. He had adjusted his vision for its longest range but the lines of trucks and armored vehicles seemed to go on forever. The information coming in from the countryside suggested that this was just one of three great armies converging on The Eternal City. The frantic itching in his skin told him that the forces below had seen him and were already locking their weapons on him. Please d
on’t fire humans, I’m trying to bring peace.

  For a moment he thought his pleas had been ignored. Four great bangs had surrounded him and he cringed expecting to feel the lash of iron fragments from the missiles lacerating his body. But, he had been spared that. It was just the crash the human aircraft made when they flew anywhere fast. This group formed up around him, one on each side, one behind, one in front. Then, with him nice and tightly boxed in, they started to change course. Raphael got the feeling he was being herded as if he was a helpless target. Then, he understood, that too the humans that was precisely what he was.

  Headquarters, Human Expeditionary Army, Heaven.

  “Anyway, we had no women in the army until the late 1960s. There had been, right up to the First World War but when the Germans reorganized us in the 1930s, that was a change they made. Then, the Army found they needed us and started recruiting. I was one of the first few intakes. Of course, they had made no preparations for us at all. None of the things we needed were there and the stores were reluctant to issue the things they had. After all, as the quartermaster said, they are called stores, not issues.”

  Petraeus, Jackson and Gillespie all laughed while they refreshed their glasses. Asanee eyed Petraeus carefully, he seemed to be recovering from the depression that had affected him after the nuclear destruction of the previous Angelic army. She topped up her own glass of whisky and resumed.

  “They didn’t even have any underwear for us. We had to supply our own and civilian standard stuff didn’t last very long. Eventually, the Army got around to issuing the women soldiers with underwear. Guess what. It was camouflaged, the old tiger stripe pattern. What did they expect us to do? Run around a battlefield in our underwear?” There was another eruption of laughter and she eyed the other generals severely. “First person to say yes will be killed.”

  Petraeus wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes. “You think you had problems. One of my men actually shot me on a field exercise. Tripped over and his rifle discharged. I always said there were problems with the lethality of the old 5.56mm.”