AH-64s. This one had been loaded with some time-expired Hellfire missiles that had been found at the back of a supply dump. Two of the eight failed to fire completely, one exploded shortly after launch, lashing the front of the helicopter with fragments while two more failed to guide and went off into the darkness to land somewhere kilometers away. The three remaining missiles scored direct hits on the Beast and it went down.
Even so, the battered and bullet-peppered Leopard Beast was still alive. It had no taste to continue this fight anymore, all it wanted was out, an end, away from the humans who wished its death so devoutly. Racked with pain from its injuries, it dragged itself along the ground, its mind forming the image of the portal that would take it to the sanctuary it needed so desperately. The problem was that generating the portal needed its concentration and the beast’s limited intellect wasn’t capable of both forming its portal and absorbing the shattering pain of its injuries. Dimly, its mind registered more crashes and the searing pain of shaped charges burning their way into its body. Slowly, reluctantly, the Leopard Beast gave up the battle to survive.
Scrubland, Outside The Defense Perimeter, Fort Bragg, North Carolina.
Warhol rubbed his eyes. They were gritty, he could feel the residues of burned powder under the lids and he wondered just how many rounds he’d fired into the Beast the night before. Ahead of him, the troops were lining up to be pictured beside the massive body that was stretched out on the ground. Just how much did that damned thing weigh he thought as the crew of a Bradley were pictured with their vehicle beside one of its paws. Could a thing like that actually exist? And if it did, what else was there in Heaven waiting to descend on Earth. The Leopard Beast had taken most of the resources of Fort Bragg to kill and it had come precious close to breaking in and destroying the scientific resources of the DIMO(N) center here.
“Impressive isn’t it.” Beside him, Doctor Crosby was also looking at the corpse of the Beast.
“It’s just big, that’s all. We can kill them, just a matter of learning how.” Warhol’s mind had trouble forming the words.
“I hope so. I think we’ll see more of them in due course.”
Chapter Nineteen
Chong Sadao, Thailand
“Where the hell have you been? My people have been cut to pieces up here because you broke your word.” Captain Momrajong was almost spitting with sheer rage. The fact he was speaking to a Senior Colonel, a rank equivalent to a one-star General in most other armies didn’t really register. “We were promised, promised, that if there was an invasion we’d be relieved by regular troops within 12 hours. That was two days ago.”
Senior Colonel Thawat bit back the response that would have left nothing of the captain but a pair of smoking boots and nodded apologetically instead. At one level, a rebuke would have been pointless, the Tahan Phran belonged to a different chain of command than the regular Army. They weren’t even funded by the Ministry of Defense, the Home Affairs Ministry carried the cost of the militia units. At another level, Thawat knew the captain was right. The lightly-armed militia weren’t intended to confront regular armies, they were supposed to protect their villages against minor incursions and guarantee security along roads. In most areas of the country that meant looking after tourists. The Tahan Phran had no heavy weapons, no night vision equipment and their body armor was locally-made Level Two. That wouldn’t stop a reasonably powerful pistol round.
“I understand your anger Captain, but we’re here now. In regimental strength. My men are relieving yours all along this area of front. The people responsible for this screw-up have been relieved. We can’t change what went wrong, we can only make sure it doesn’t happen again and go on from here.”
“That’s fine for you to say. I had some of my wounded die because they didn’t get the casualty evacuation we were promised. Are you going to tell their families why they died?”
“No, my commander will and she will do so personally.” Thawat’s voice was drowned out by a red-and-gray camouflaged V-22 sweeping in and hovering overhead. He watched while the aircraft changed, its engine nacelles swinging up so that its appearance changed from a transport aircraft to a helicopter. Then it dropped in to land, the downbeat from its rotors causing the men to bend down. “As to casualty evacuation, get your wounded and the Osprey will take them straight to the hospitals in Kanchanaburi. How many men have you fit for duty? Out of how many?”
“I have twenty rangers left. My original platoon was twenty-five but I’ve absorbed two other units that were too badly chewed up to stay independent. We’ve taken forty dead and fifteen wounded, at least five of my dead would have made it if you’d kept your word.”
All right, you’ve made your point, now drop it. We can’t bring them back. Despite his irritation, Thawat kept the thought to himself, then corrected himself. Well, actually we can, for a short while anyway. Hell and the Second Life had changed a lot of ways of thinking and human speech habits were slow to catch up.
“Now, Captain, I want you to show me where the Myanmarese troops are and in what strength. Then we can go about making them pay for the lives of your people.”
Momrajong exhaled, his breath shaking slightly as the pent-up anger slowly faded. “The Myanmar troops are moving along here.” He got out his map and his finger started to trace out the Myanmarese positions. “They came south of the Si Nakharin Lake. Most of their forces are here, our estimate is divisional strength. Say 20,000 men at most. They are light infantry, they have mortars and machine guns but not much else. This,” his finger traced eastwards, “is their primary axis of advance.”
Thawat nodded. The dispositions made sense, Chong Sadao was the start of a funnel that led to Kanchanaburi, a natural route in towards the rich farming land of the Chaophrya river. It had been used by the Burmese many times over the turbulent history of the two countries. There was a reason why Chong Sadao was served by good, all-weather roads while further east, they deteriorated to single-lane blacktop and then to laterite, unpaved tracks. To the north, the way through was blocked by the lake and mountains, to the south by more mountains and dense jungle. Chong Sadao was the natural blocking point for any invasion and the long established defense plans for the area had tasked 9th Infantry with holding it. The militia captain was right, this area should have been occupied two days ago and the defenses here should have been built and ready. Soldiers would die because they were fighting from a hasty defense instead of a prepared one. Thawat promised himself that, at least, the militia units would suffer no more casualties.
“Captain, this is a straightforward infantry blocking action. My regiment can handle it. Please give the rest of your information to my staff, then I suggest, recommend, you use some of our transport to get your people to the rear where they can rest and eat. You’ve done enough, done more than enough and your work has been splendid.”
“Work we shouldn’t have had to do.” Momrajong was still bitter over how his militia had been hung out to dry. He knew the Colonel in front of him didn’t really understand how deeply the sense of betrayal ran. Army units were just that, army units, assembled out of the mix of volunteers and conscripts that the Army used as its primary resource. The militia was drawn from villages and every member of each unit had known the others from earliest childhood. His losses had taken almost a generation of youngsters from the villages already depleted by those who had left to earn money in the big cities.
“I know, but now we must do the work we should have done all along.”
The Ultimate Temple, The Eternal City, Heaven.
“They killed Wuffles!” Yahweh’s voice was a mixture of rage and anguish. The thunder rolled around the throne room, drowning out the eternally-chanting choir. Michael-Lan watched them carefully, was there a hint of malicious satisfaction in their eyes at the sight of Yahweh’s grief over the death of his favorite pet.
Personally, Michael-Lan had never liked the beast. Foul-tempered, cantankerous and ill-disciplined to the point of being antisocial. It was lucky they had humans here to clear up the mess the incontinent beast tended to leave behind him. That was the trouble with a beast that size, its droppings were in proportion and took a long time to shovel away. Still, the Leopard-Beast had served its purpose.
“All-Knowing Father, One Above All, I share your grief at the loss of your beloved Wuffles. But know that he fought bravely and inflicted great damage on the humans before they treacherously brought him down with their bombs and gunfire.”
Yahweh did indeed look proud of his pet for a moment, but then grief and anger swept away the momentary lapse. The thunder cracked viciously and a sheet of lightning lit up the dim room. Still white Michael-Lan noted,
