A horrible presentiment passed through Schatten’s mind. “What do you mean red? Heaven is supposed to have white light.”
“For sure, Sir. And it may well have. But we ain’t there, we’re in Hell. We’re off Loran coverage but I think we’re about a thousand miles east of Dis. Far outside anywhere we’ve occupied to date. We’re been snookered, Sir. Want us to hang around here or back out?”
Schatten thought for a second. “Anything else you can see?”
“Grass here is all chewed up and looks like there’s a lot of dried blood around. Silver and red I think. That’s all. Otherwise, pretty empty here Sir.”
“Stevenson, might as well evacuate out of there. We’ll debrief you on your return.”
Schatten sat back down in his seat and shook his head. Michael hadn’t gone directly from Earth to Heaven, he’d used Hell as a staging point, then gone back to some deserted location on Earth for the trip back to Heaven. Antactica perhaps? Or the wilds of the Amazonian rain forest? Who knew? By the look of it, he made all his people do the same, no matter how critical the situation was for them. Then, he shook his head again and sighed. “Damn, that guy’s good.”
Refugee Camp, Bath-Edie, Georgia, USA
“I am sorry about the conditions here, but this is the best we can do.” President Obama looked at the emergency accommodation that had been provided for the family in front of him. It really was about as basic as it could be. He felt acute guilt that his administration couldn’t do better for these people, but with Bermuda being left uninhabitable by the repeat impact of storms and most of the Carolina/Georgia coast in barely better condition, it was a question of what could be achieved, not what he would like to achieve.
The scale of the weather attacks on the east coast and the Carribean Islands hadn’t been as bad as the weather experts had feared. For some reason, it had been a quiet hurricane season and, they believed, had it not been for Heavenly interference, probably not one hurricane would have made it ashore. Even with the tropical disturbances being artificially pumped up and steered, the disasters had been limited. Everybody had expected Florida to have been hammered as badly as Bermuda yet the state had escaped virtually unscathed. Yet, for all that, there were still more refugees needing help than resources available to aid them.
“We’ll make out Mister President.” The man’s English accent sounded far out of place in this location. “We’re better off than many thanks to you.”
“And to everybody else Philip.” The man’s wife spoke reprovingly. “Think of everybody who is helping out.”
That was true. Food packages and other aid were coming in from all over the world. This camp had just received a big shipment of Vietnamese rice and there were Vietnamese troops helping unload it while this tour went down. That thought made Obama smile. I wonder what the Vietnam vets here think of Vietnamese troops on American soil. “That’s true ma’am. We’re all pulling together now.”
The woman nodded and then her face saddened. “We still haven’t heard from my sister in Los Angeles. I hope she made it.” Then she started to cry.
“I can do something about that.” Obama put on his sincere voice and then gave an abrupt wave to an aide. “Take this lady’s name and address here down and the details of her sister in Los Angeles. Then find out what happened to her and get them in contact.” He turned to the woman again. “It surprised me to find out high people jump when the White House gets interested. We’ll get you word soon.”
The Presidential party moved down the row of shelters, the President shaking hands with the adults while Michelle Obama talked to the children. The camp’s very nature told of the problem it addressed, while the directed weather attacks hadn’t inflicted the appalling casualties experienced in Tel Aviv, Los Angeles or Naypyidaw, they were an ever-increasing burden on a over-strained, over-stretched world economy. And they never stopped. Now, massive tornados in Kansas or tropical storms hitting the Carolinas coast were too frequent to rate highly on the news. Yet, their economic damage mounted every day. Obama chided himself for thinking that. Over 153,000 Israelis had died when Tel Aviv had been hit. The Israeli Government had sacrificed them, along with itself, to keep the Human Alliance together. Worrying over economic damage from storms seemed petty and selfish in comparison with that sacrifice.
The tour of the camp was ending, now there would be a press conference before he flew over to Colorado to visit another camp for refugees from Tornado Alley. He fixed his friendly smile into place and stood up on the podium his aides had erected for him. It had the Great Seal on it, the new one with the Eagle looking firmly at the arrows clutched in its left talons. These were not the days for the olive branch clasped in its right. The questions from the journalists were the same. How many had died? How long would the war last? How much higher would taxes rise? There was a tiredness in the questions themselves, one that spoke of increasing war-weariness. Eventually, Obama saw the overweight shape of one of his more virulent political critics rising. Damn, I thought he was in a Florida hospital somewhere.
“Mister President, how is it that under President Bush’s leadership we defeated and occupied Hell in eight months but now, after sixteen months of war against Heaven, we’re no closer to victory than we were when we started.”
“Well, Rush, an intelligent question deserves a simple two-word answer.” Obama paused and let the tension build up slightly. “We were extremely fortunate that the Curbstomp War worked out the way it did. The enemy didn’t understand us or know our capabilities. They relied on their traditional tactics as a result and they fought on the ground they knew best from their previous incursions on Earth. That threw them against the best army we have under the best general we have. We were lucky in that our allies, notably the Russians, the British, the Indians, the Iranians, all came swiftly to our aid and we were able to subject our opponents to withering firepower. Then, when their army collapsed we were able to pursue them literally to the gates of Hell itself. Due to the actions of our special forces, and those of our allies of course, we were then able to mount operations that defeated the authorities in Hell, eliminate their control and free the humans they held in vile captivity. In contrast, our enemies in Heaven have isolated themselves from us. We have them under siege and we are pounding on their gates. This is a longer, more complex task against a much more capable and skilled opponent. But, mark my words, soon, very soon, we will break through those gates, crush our enemies within Heaven and establish a just and democratic regime there as well.”
The commentator looked confused. “Mister President, that wasn’t a two-word answer.”
“That wasn’t an intelligent question.”
Chapter Forty Five
Michael-Lan’s Office, Temple of Righteous Ardor, Eternal City
“Salaphael, how could you betray our Peerless Father this way?”
“It is not I who betray the One Above All. Those of his advisors who speak false words to Him and by deceit lure Him away from the path of Absolute Righteousness, they are the ones who betray The Immaculate Presence.”
By which you mean me. Michael-Lan looked at Salaphael-Lan-Yahweh without a shadow of regret at the state to which he had been reduced. The League of Holy Court had struck at dawn, using the lists that Lemuel and his team had so carefully compiled. Humans, angels, archangels had been dragged from their rest, placed in golden shackles and taken to the interrogation centers and prisons. The most important ones, the leaders, had been kept here in the Eternal City. The rest had been taken outside, to detention camps in the countryside. It would be easier to get rid of them quietly there.
“Salaphael, my old friend…”
Michael-Lan’s words were cut off, harshly and abruptly. “I am not your friend, Michael-Lan. Once perhaps, but you have abandoned the ways of millennia and cast away everything that we hold dear. You are not the friend of any here in the Eternal City, you are the center of the poison that corrupts everything that was, is now and ever more shall be.”
And so truth and falsehood get irretrievably mixed. Yes, Salaphael, I am at the center of the corruption that slowly spreads throughout the Eternal City. And in being so I am a better friend to every angel here than you could possibly imagine. For to have the humans come here with their weapons in their hands and hate in their hearts, that would be the final death of us all. Michael-Lan thought of the fate of Naypyidaw and Tel Aviv, the huge, boiling
