Armageddon??

by Stuart Slade

Euryale shook her head. Guruktarqor’s statement was correct but irrelevant. The key question was… where was the human resolve to deny them answers coming from? They were actively killing their own kind to deny the demons answers. She found it hard to believe they were just being perverse. What did it look like from the humans point of view? Information about weapons, needed urgently, could only mean the demons were fighting humans somewhere. With that thought, understanding dawned.

  “I see it now.” Euryale’s voice rang out clearly and caught the attention of every demon in the throne room. “By asking such direct questions, we have acted as unwitting carriers of the disease of hope. Clearly all humans are inherently prone to the insane belief that they can prevail against the forces of hell. It took hold on earth and drove them to create magic weapons that seemed powerful enough to justify their belief. Now thanks to our actions it had taken hold here too.”

  “What is that antidote for hope?” she continued. “We know it well, despair, the proper natural state of a human. But merely restoring despair is not enough, for apathy does not serve our purpose. We must corrupt their newly minted hope into selfish desires, harness it to drive the humans we want, and only the humans we want, to step forward.”

  Euryale paused for a moment to let her words sink in and Yulupki took the opportunity to heckle. “Pretty ssspeech gorgon, but just how do you propossse to do that? You are no sssuccubusss, to manipulate the humansss emotionsss at a whim.”

  The gorgon flicked the naga a look of contempt, more for her utter predictability than anything else.

  “I propose that we take the humans from one mine and have my gorgons enthrall them all. We will convince them that they are recent arrivals from earth and that the armies of hell are already marching triumphantly across the planet. But there are many fortified cities that will take long sieges to reduce. We must make it clear that the humans are doomed, but that it will take us many years and many demon lives to eliminate them all unless we can strip them of their weapons. We will release these humans individually into the other mines. Finally we will present the humans with a new, false hope. Any human who gives us the information we seek will be released from bondage and held in quarters on the surface. We will promise that should their information proves correct, the next human city to attempt surrender will be spared and given to them to rule. If it proves useless, they will suffer the personal attentions of our best torturers and then eaten alive.”

  The whole court was stunned. Euryale’s plan was so radical, so ambitious in its exploitation of the human mindset that they did not know what to make of it. Every head turned to look at the Count, looking for his cue on whether to treat this gorgon as a genius or a lunatic. For a long moment Belial’s face remained impassive, unreadable. Then it broke into a vicious grin.

  “I find your suggestion most suitable Euryale.”

  She inclined her head. “With my lord’s permission.”

  “Granted. All of you, give her whatever she needs.”

  Euryale turned and fixed Yulupki with a predatory glare, which for a gorgon meant a scaled face framed by no less than twenty four spine-fringed tendril-eyes staring blankly at her target. The naga’s will broke and she hung her head, coiling around herself and folding her own tentacles behind her back in submission. Thus vindicated, Euryale swept out of the throne room, her wings fluttering impatiently while she barking orders to the retinue now trailing behind her.

  Belial was still smiling. She regularly failed to give him due respect, and this display had been forwardness bordering on insubordination, but somehow he still enjoyed being reminded just why he kept that gorgon around.

  {Thanks to Alferd who contributed the first part and Starglider who produced the second}

  Chapter Forty

  The Phlegethon Bridge, Dysprosium Highway, Hell

  “Well, its not boiling blood.” Captain Keisha Stevenson looked at the scene through her electro-optics. It was one of almost pastoral beauty, the angry, gray and red sky, the yellow-green river, the blackened-red grass, the shining black demons on guard around the bridge. Thinking over the definition of pastoral beauty, she decided that she had an unexpected talent for irony.

  “Will you look at those mothers. Never seen anything like them before.” Baldy was using his gunner’s sight to look at the scene. “Big, aren’t they?”

  “Big.” Stevenson spoke agreeably. “As big as the ones who started this whole mess off. That means they will take a battering before they go down. How many hits did that one outside Moscow take?”

  “Most of a tank battalion so I heard. But then they didn’t know what we know now.”

  “True. Hokay. Load HEAT.” Stevenson flipped over to her company command net. “All Alpha vehicles, we have some new baldricks ahead of us. They look like the warriors we’ve been whacking to date but these ones are about 40 feet high. Force count is nine, one of their squads by the look of it. Alpha and Bravo platoons, we’ll attack them, nothing elaborate, straight at them shooting as we go. Charlie section, keep your Bradleys here, once we’ve cleared the big guys, you go straight over the bridge and lay that group of buildings to waste. Don’t leave anything standing. Then, get back this side and we’ll blow the bridge. Understood?”

  The acknowledgements came over the radio. Stevenson flipped back to her intra-vehicle comms. “Right Biker, take us down. And try and keep it smooth, we’re a long way from home to be wasting ammo.”

  Five thousand meters away, Sanskiworlanaskim was bitterly annoyed at being told to guard a bridge. Perhaps, guard was the wrong word, control might be a bit closer. There were rumors that the humans were raiding into Hell itself, their Iron Chariots ranging over Dysprosium, destroying everything they found. The stories were incomprehensible, the humans weren’t trying to seize anything, they just came, destroyed and left. The accounts had to be those of terrified refugees, some of a steadily increasing stream that were coming back from the settlements on Dysprosium. That was why his unit, a part of Satan’s own private guard, were here on this bridge. The last thing His Infernal Majesty needed at this point was to have a load of cowardly refugees spreading their panic-stricken stories across Hell. His orders were quite clear, turn them back and if they wouldn’t go back, kill them.

  “Turn Out The Guard!” the cry jarred Sanskiworlanaskim out of his reverie. He took an appalled look across the ground, there were eight clouds of dust moving towards the bridge. For a brief second he thought they were more groups of refugees but that didn’t last for more than a second. At the foot of the cloud, moving terrifyingly fast, were the squat shapes of Iron Chariots, the odd rectangular shape on top already swinging in his direction. Then, another cloud of dust, an odd one like a ball in front of the Chariot, and a red streak leaping out towards where the bridge guard was waiting. Sanskiworlanaskim saw it hit one of the guardsman square in the chest, rocking him back on his feet as an orange fireball erupted in front of him.

  This was unthinkable, His Infernal Majesties own guard under attack? This was just not permitted, to disobey one of the Guard, let alone attack them was punishable by the most horrible death Satan could imagine. Sanskiworlanaskim admitted to himself that Satan really did have a vivid imagination in such things. In the brief second that the reflection had taken, the stricken guardsman had dropped to his knees, purple blood pouring from the gaping hole burned deep into his chest. More fire-lances struck around them, the ground erupting where they impacted. The humans were missing? The whispered rumors from the destruction of Abigor’s Army were that the human fire lances never missed. Or was that the Seeker Lances? Or both.

  Then, a burning, agonizing pain in his leg. Sanskiworlanaskim looked down, the wound was a slight one, just a line slashed through his skin but it burned as if he was in the lava pits of the depths. Then, he understood, the wound was from a firelance fragment and the fragments were made of iron. Demons and iron didn’t get along very well. That’s why iron was forbidden in hell, another rule the humans were too treacher
ous to obey.

  The Chariots had closed still further so Sanskiworlanaskim dropped to one knee and aimed his trident carefully. He could feel his body pouring magic into it, felt the energy surging through him and depositing in the shaft of the trident and boosting its power up higher. Then, when it could hold no more, he pushed the haft forward so that it made contact with the copper core of the weapon and the magic discharged in a brilliant lightning bolt that left the three tines and streaked across to hit one of the Iron Chariots.

  “Wow, that smarts.” Stevenson had felt the electric shock in her seat, the tank’s frontal armor was non-conductive but enough power had leaked through to give the crew a bad shock. “You guys?”

  “I thought the electric chair had been declared unconstitutional?” Crabs sounded aggrieved.

  “Fire control computer went down Hooters. Its coming back up now, the Tempest hardening worked fine.”

  Stevenson nodded to herself and flipped to the Company net. “Anyone else cop a burst like that?”

  “Bravo-Three Ma’am. We took one as well, lost the fire control and engine control computers for a second. Back up now, no apparent damage. These guys throw the big bolts.”

  “Sure do, take them down.” There was another crash as her tank’s main gun fired. The shot was wild, heading over the river to somewhere else. “All vehicles, slow right down and make aimed shots only.”

  In the guard post by the bridge, Sanskiworlanaskim was trying to understand what was happening. The post itself had gone, fire lances had hit it and it had flown apart with the impact, dissolving in the red balls that marked the fire lance’s anger. Six of the guardsmen were down, their wounds bleeding purple and stained with copper. That was something else Sanskiworlanaskim could not understand, how did a fire lance blast copper so deep into its victims. One thing Sanskiworlanaskim did understand was that he too was dying. A fire lance had hit him low down in his stomach and he could feel the burned tissue deep inside him. The copper was inside him as well, he could feel it grinding at his guts as it turned solid.

  Out front the Iron Chariots had stopped and were standing off, firing their fire-lances into the wreckage of the bridge. His sight dimming, Sanskiworlanaskim saw another fire lance coming straight for him. He never got to see the explosion.

  40 minutes later. The Phlegethon Bridge, Dysprosium Highway, Hell

  “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “We’ve got new engine filters and there’s an experimental coating on the blades. We’ve lost a lot of performance but we can fly. Just keep it slow and steady.” The Osprey pilot looked at his cargo being unloaded. “And don’t overload the bird.”

  “So we’ve got to stay here?” Stevenson’s voice was disbelieving.

  “That’s right. This is the new forward base. You should see Hell-Alpha, there’s work all over. Even building a runway. Oh yes, Petraeus asked me to give you these.” Captain Mark Sheppard reached into a pocket and gave Stevenson a small box, one that contained two gold oak-leaves. “Congratulations Major. The General asked me to reassure you that as soon as you’re relieved here, you’ll be going back to our world. I think he has a battalion waiting for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to base before the engines seize up.” He looked fondly at the Osprey. “I surely do love this bird though.”

  Overseer Barracks, Kubelethakka Drift Mine, Tartarus

  “We are done here. Take it away, bring me a fresh one.”

  The overseer gave a sharp tug on the brass chain connected to the human’s collar, jerking the still slightly dazed creature off its feet. Lakheenahuknaasi sighed. She had long since ceased to be amused by such petty cruelty, but the lesser demons never seemed to tire of it. Still, it might be uncreative, but every little torment contributed to keeping the humans bleeding out precious spiritual energy. Euryale’s quotas were strict though and she wasn’t going to let this simpleton make her miss it.

  “Now!” Lakheenahuknaasi hissed, baring her black poison-tentacles at the overseer, who grudgingly stopped kicking the fallen man and backed off. The human managed to regain its footing, only lightly gashed by the rocky floor, and was quickly dragged away. Within seconds a new human was shoved into her niche. This one had skin the color of sulfur. After a few centuries in hell it took a lot to scare a typical human, but Lakheenahuknaasi’s stare was enough to reduce most to gibbering. It wasn’t so much her bronze-scaled face or slitted golden pupils as the writhing cloud of black and red tentacles that surrounded her head, each tipped by four spines and a single unblinking eye. This particular specimen was kept whispering “Yato-no-kami, Yato-no-kami!”, whatever that meant.

  Six ought to do it Lakheenahuknaasi thought, gauging the human’s body mass. A pair of the red tentacles idly trained themselves on the prey, and with a wet crackling noise a flurry of spines leapt from their tips to embed themselves in the man’s shoulders. He screamed and writhed, futilely seeking some means of escape. The venom worked quickly however and in less than a minute his struggles had subsided into docility.

  She shifted back on her haunches, considering what history to give this one. “What is your name?”

  “Hijikata Katamori”

  “You lived in Tokyo. It held for many weeks but it was eventually reduced by the legions of Merafawlazes.”

  “No, I lived… wait… the forces of Yomi assaulted Edo? What became of Shogun Ieharu?”

  “All the humans were slaughtered. Their defiance bought them only ruin. Their iron chariots killed many demons but they could not save them in the end.”

  “Iron chariots?” asked Katamori, “That sounds impractical.”

  Lakheenahuknaasi slapped the human roughly across the face. Her claws left deep scratches on the man’s cheek. “Listen carefully. You watched the fire throwers on the city walls kill many of our cavalry, but once they revealed themselves they were destroyed by our fliers. You ran from the walls as they were scaled by our infantry. The lightning from their tridents cut down humans to your left, to your right, but you found shelter.”

  Katamori was nodding vaguely, beginning to get into the fantasy. “I hid behind an overturned cart. The lightning set it on fire.”

  “You tried to hide but it was hopeless.”

  “We hid in the ruins but they had magic that could track us unfailingly!” Katamori could see the scene vividly in his mind.

  “You were caught and executed.”

  “They ate the children, as if they were delicacies! For a moment I thought I had been spared, but then flying beasts swooped down and set the whole city aflame! One passed over me… and… I was burned alive…” he sobbed.

  And that’s enough of that thought Lakheenahuknaasi. This one must be a peasant that he knows nothing of the iron chariots, probably died in a house fire, no sense wasting more time on him. Now for the finishing touch…

  This time it was a black tentacle that loosed a pair of spines, which bored straight into the human’s neck. Again the man reeled, trying to scream but this time no sound would come. Euryale had discovered this particular technique and instructed all the gorgons in its use; a moderate dose of poison delivered directly to the brain would scramble the human’s memories just enough to imitate a fresh arrival, which were almost always slightly crazed. As a side benefit it tended to hide the flaws in their stories.

  Lakheenahuknaasi’s forked tongue flicked out and licked the traces of blood from her claws. “This one is done. Next!”

  Base Camp, Outer Ring, Seventh Circle of Hell

  McElroy was running the handcrank on the universal charger when kitten’s voice penetrated his thoughts. Corporal McElroy, are you there? May we speak now?

  Sure thing, my dear. McElroy smiled, despite himself. How’ve you been? Are they treatin’ you OK?

  I’m fine, and I’ve been treated very well.

  Well, that’s great to hear. McElroy stopped charging and lifted the lid on the laptop. It was a military-grade device, built to withstand just about anything you
’d expect in a hostile environment. It booted to life quickly. Shall we get down to business?

  Yes, please.

  McElroy went over his notes. This appears to be a rural region of Hell. Based on the information contained in the laptop here, it’d be extremely difficult to hook up with any of the current cells of the PFLH. I’ve observed no geographical features or landmarks that match anything described or photographed by those cells. I have been photographing my surroundings and attempting to map my location, though I never was much for computers.

  kitten was quiet for a moment. Acknowledged. Four your information, you are now the Hell’s People’s Liberation Front. Have you established a safe base of operations?

  Affirmative. We’ve taken up residence in a cave which is deep in a forest. If the colors weren’t all wrong, I’d say we were up in the Catskills or somethin’. Looks like the divider between two circles.

  I’m sorry, did you just say ‘we’?

  Affirmative. I’ve pulled seven U.S. soldiers out of the river of lava. Well, they pulled themselves out. I blasted the baldricks trying to chuck them back in. As an aside, please pass my compliments along to whoever designed the rifle you guys gave me. This sucker’ll put a hole in a baldrick the size of your head!

  kitten’s tone was vaguely amused. I’ll be sure to do that, Corporal. They’re asking for the names and service numbers of the personnel you freed. Could you get them for me?

  [i]Yup, one sec…damn computers. OK, here we go. First is Private First Class Arthur DeVanzo. Service number… and he rattled off the rest of the names, before concluding, We got one other fellow, too, but he’s Japanese, and not exactly military.

  Oh, I see. A pause. If you’ll give us his name and as much personal information as you can, we’ll try to locate his family.

  Ah, well, that might be a touch difficult. He’s, uh, been in Hell for a while. He’s a Samurai, and from what he’s told me, he’s a warrior from the Ashikaga shogunate, and from what I can remember from my college history classes, that puts him anywhere from five to seven hundred years old.