the Third Armored moved through it and vanished. A few seconds later, a message came over the radio that caused an eruption of cheering all over the base. It said, quite simply, “Base Heavengate-Alpha established.”
Chapter Sixty Five
Base Heavengate-Alpha, Heaven
“Hokay, so we do a Thunder Run Sir. Anywhere in particular or do we get to choose?”
“Not quite a Thunder Run this time Colonel. You will push in the direction of the concentration camp established ten miles from your present position. A medical unit is following you, your orders are, and your primary responsibility is, to get them to that camp alive and unharmed. You will then force an entry to that camp, secure it and maintain security while the medics work on the inmates. After they have finished, you will cover their extraction.”
“Very good Sir.”
“And Colonel. Last time an American division liberated a concentration camp, they lined the guards up and shot them. That was then, this is now, don’t use that as a precedent. We want the guards alive and most especially we want the daemon running that camp alive. Belial has a lot to answer for.”
“We’ll do our best Sir. I won’t make promises I can’t keep though. If those guards fight, we’ll have to take them down.”
“That’s one thing. Having them all mysteriously ‘shot while trying to escape’ or ‘resisting arrest’ would be something different.”
“Understood Sir.” Colonel Keisha Stevenson shut down the communications terminal and stepped outside the tent. Communications wouldn’t be a tent for very long, the pre-fabricated building that would be the permanent communications section in Heaven was already being erected. The concrete base was already drying and the walls were ranged out beside it, ready to be hoisted into place. The same scene could be spotted all over the base area. Buildings were going up fast as Base Heavengate Alpha-One was turned into a full divisional encampment. Just one of many that were being set up fast as the Ospreys could transport portal teams to suitable areas. First Army Group was pouring into Heaven literally as fast as vehicles could be driven through the portals. Overhead, the V-22s were already flying out to new locations north and west of the Eternal City so that bridgeheads could be established for the Second and Third Army Groups. This onslaught was a far different scene from the early days in Hell when Stevenson had been convinced the brass were making up the plans as they went along.
“Thoughtful Boss?”
“Yeah Biker. We got the orders to move out. Take that concentration camp west of here and watch over the medics as they do their thing.” Stevenson looked around. “Kind of miss the old days in Hell.”
“Like the day we got a disabled driver sticker, put it on the tank and parked it in the Colonel’s space?”
“Just like that. Although we should have asked him to remove his Humvee first. I don’t know, look at this place. Pretty rolling green hills, nice little forests, air so clean it tastes like wine. Well, it does until we start the tanks up. It’s too pretty, it lacks character. Hell had character.”
“Mostly bad.”
“Yeah, but at least it had some. This place looks like its somebody tried too hard to make the perfect world. It’s the Stepford Wives version of an environment. Hokay, we’re going to blow it up anyway, it’s time to roll. Biker, get the troops together and we’ll try and liven this place up a bit.
Farming Community, Five Miles West of Base Heavengate-Alpha-One, Heaven
Nobody had removed the body of their angel. He was still sprawled out on the ground on the outskirts of the village where the soldiers had shot him down. Haropamiel-Lan-Mihmakeal had seen the column of vehicles approaching and stepped out into the road in front of them, holding up his hand, palm facing the newcomers. The Ishim had held his ground, even when the newcomers had driven right up to him and fired their guns at his feet. Then, three of their vehicles had opened fire on him and Haropamiel had fallen. Now, half the village was wailing in grief at the death of their lord while the rest were stunned by the sight of an Angel being casually killed.
“Hokay, we hold here until the medical convoy joins us, then we push the rest of the way.” The commander of the newcomers was speaking to another officer.
Benedict almost fainted with terror at the thought of what he was about to do but his duties left him no choice. In point of fact, he had no official duties, Haropamiel had been the only authority in the hamlet but Benedict had been his right hand in dealing with the humans and the habit still held good. Anyway, with Haropamiel laying dead in the dirt, surrounded by a pool of his peerless white blood, somebody had to take charge. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and addressed the officer of soldiers. “Sir, it is time for us to make our daily reverences to the Lord of All.”
The officer turned around and, to his shock, Benedict saw that the officer was a woman. Not only that but a Nubian. “And you are?” Her voice was cold and not very sympathetic. The accent was one that Benedict had never heard before. Nor, come to think of it had he seen clothes like the ones she was wearing. Tunic and trousers all covered in an eye-deceiving pattern of red and gray squares, a thick and heavy-looking jacket colored the same way. There was much equipment carried by this officer, more than that carried by the Roman officers Benedict had seen during his life on Earth. Most frightening of all though were the things that covered her eyes. They were mirrors, ones that reflected the image of Benedict standing before her yet concealed her own expression completely. Combined with the impassive expression, Benedict had no idea of how or what she was feeling. One thing Benedict did understand, this human wasn’t dead. Heaven was being invaded, the war machines parked in his village and those flying overhead proved that. Heaven had seen nothing like them before.
“My name is Benedict. Since you have killed our Angel, I am in charge here.”
“Hokay, then stop that damned wailing.”
“I am sorry Sir, but our angel is dead. Without his protection and guidance, what shall we do?”
“Try standing on your own feet.”
Benedict almost wept with despair. He had hoped for sympathy, or at least that his need to carry on with the duties of reverence for The Almighty Lord would win some favor. But there was none to be found here. He looked closely at the officer and saw the signs of authority that had marked the Roman officers he had known long ago. “May we perform our rituals?”
“Sure, this is your village, such as it is. You can do what you wish.” The voice changed slightly and some warmth crept into it. “You’d better get used to that. It’s called being free. The days when Angels ruled this place are ending pretty damned soon. And you don’t have to do that reverencing stuff any more. Unless you really want to of course. Can’t see what you would want to give thanks for though.”
Benedict took offense at that and at the casual invocation of damnation. “We have much to be thankful for. We live in comfortable homes that are ours to keep. No soldiers come to burn them down in the night. We have our fields to tend and our crops to grow and they do not get trampled down or stolen. We have clothes to wear, all we need to eat and much more besides. We live our days in peace. Truly, is this not the Paradise we were promised?”
Benedict waited to be struck down in the way that any who spoke to an officer of soldiers would have been struck down. Instead, she burst out laughing and started shaking her head.
Spearhead Battalion, Third Armored Division, Heaven
“Hokey, so this one has got guts. Some anyway.” Stephenson looked around at the cluster of hovels that surrounded her unit. She guessed that some hillbillies living in the back end of nowhere probably had worse living conditions but she couldn’t be sure of that. What she did know was that in any American town, these shanty homes would be condemned as a health and safety hazard. Nobody, but nobody, she knew had to live in conditions like this.
“He’s probably right Colonel. I’d guess this place does stack up pretty well against the conditions people had to live in two thousand years ago. Ever heard of the Lekker Lewe?” Stephenson shook her head. “Read about it in a book about the Zulu wars. The old Boer settlers had a lifestyle they called the Lekker Lewe, the sweet life. For them, the sweet life meant doing the minimum of work needed to provide them with a minimally comfortable lifestyle. Put a lot of emphasis on living in balance with the land. Bit like environmentalists I guess although most of the enviro’s I know would go apeshit at the idea their ideas were upheld by a bunch of South African Boers. It was
