that he had stumbled out with his real name. Maion, however was perfectly on cue. “Oh, Our Eternal Father be praised, that I should have the honor of serving the great Lemuel. I am told you saved He Who Is Above Us All from a foul plot today.”
Lemuel reached out for the two wooden sticks that were used to pick up the fruit. He tried to hold them properly but his fingers weren’t working very well and he dropped them. Maion quickly reached out and picked them up for him. “Most honored Lemuel-lan, if you would put your head in my lap, I will be privileged to help you eat. May I only ask that you tell me the story of how you exposed the machinations of those dreadful traitors?”
Maion moved careful and lowered Lemuel’s head into her lap. Then, she reached out to the bowl of fruit and carefully speared a piece that he knew to be his favorite. She dropped it into his mouth with exquisite care and watched fondly as he chewed it with delight. Charmeine-lan had explained that this was her chance to hook a permanent patron, one who would reserve her so she wouldn’t have to go with clients from the showroom floor any more. That had been incentive enough but already she was sensing that beneath his drunkenness, Lemuel was a kind man who would treat her well. Or at least not treat her badly. She picked up another piece of fruit for him, carefully remembering how Charmeine-lan had briefed her on what were his favorites and which he disliked. She had watched this dish being prepared to make sure that it would be ideal for him.
“What are these strange things?” Lemuel’s question indicated the odd little colored things.
“They are called sprinkles exalted Lemuel-lan. A human sweet intended for such dishes. You like them?”
“Very much.” Maion relaxed as Lemuel started a long, rambling story of how he had compared lists and gathered reports about the conspiracy against Yahweh. Even though she had managed the first step and was carefully make sure he was being fed with his preferred foods, he listened very carefully to what he was staying, remembering to look enraptured by the account. She gave little gasps of excitement when he told of how comparing the contents of two reports had revealed yet another name for the growing list of those who would betray The Eternal Father. Perpetiel-lan-Paschar winked at her but she ignored him. Her attention was focussed on Lemuel, determined to convince him that she was drinking in every word he had to say. Eventually, the long, semi-coherent story was over, the food dish was empty and the supply of drinks had run out. Lemuel was semi-asleep despite his efforts, and the music from the bands had quietened to a background melody. He was a very happy Ophanim, his gloom and depression gone. It had been a long time since he had been the center of attention and affection like this.
“Would you like to go to a room upstairs?” Maion asked softly. “To reverence Our Immortal Lord of course.” She held her breath, this was the key moment.
“Upstairs?” Lemuel tried to get his mind around the concept. “I would like that.”
Charmeine-lan seized her moment. Maion was doing well, now it was necessary to add the sealing touch. “There will be a charge of ten talents to take Maion upstairs, noble Ophanim. It will be twenty if you wish to beat her, thirty if you wish to hit her in the face.”
“Beat her?” Lemuel was furious. “What sort of people are you? Who do you think I am? You disgust me.”
Charmeine-lan dropped to her knees, her wings folded over her head in submission. “Forgive me noble Ophanim, but there are those who… I should never have thought you….”
Maion held her breath slightly. Now, in the script she and Charmeine had carefully rehearsed, this was the one critical point. “Charmeine, this is the noble Lemuel-lan-Michael who today saved us all from the plotting of those who sought to replace He Who Is Above Us All. I would wish to honor him properly for his valiant service. Surely for one such as he, there should be no charge? And if there is, then I would wish to pay it for him.”
“Most Holy Ophanim, I should have known. For your valor today, you are indeed welcome to enjoy all that we have. Maion is yours, by her request, without charge. Honor us by accepting her company.”
Maion took Lemuel by her hand and led him to the stairs that went to the rooms above. As soon as they were outside, Perpetiel and Charmeine exchanged high-fives. “Did it!” Perpetiel’s voice was almost a shout of triumph.
“Of course.” Charmeine sounded conceited. “Angels like that can’t resist a bird with broken wings.
DIMO(N) Test Facility, Camp Hendrick, Hell
“Are we all set to go kitten?” Colonel Warhol had the equipment set up and was ready to run. All he needed now was for kitten to get into the portal generator and find the desired contact. She was standing beside her boyfriend, waiting to do so. She glanced quickly at him, he nodded and she started to sit in the padded operator console. “Now, what I want you to do is something different from anything you’ve done before. I’d like you to start searching for a contact but its not human or nephalim. Look instead for a series of six numbers. 489735. Just think those numbers and wait for a response.”
“What are we doing?” kitten’s boyfriend Dani was curious. “kitten can’t make a contact without a nephelim the other end.”
“If this works, she can.” Warhol hesitated and then went on. “We’ve proved that the nephelim at the other end simply echoes the search signal back to its source to make the contact. So, what we have done is set up a series of beacons, in this case a hundred of them. If they pick up the right signal, they’ll echo it back and we’ll have our contact. So, kitten is looking for three beacons, number 48, number 97 and number 35. We think that thinking the number will key the appropriate beacon to respond. Now, once she has all three, she can more or less drop out and the generator will pump energy into the link and turn it into a proper portal, one whose Earth end is equidistant from all three beacons.”
Dani thought for a second. “That’ll make it just like a telephone number won’t it? You, we’ll be able to contact anywhere.” He paused again. “Why not just use cell phone towers as beacons? The infrastructure is already up, you could get the net set up in weeks.”
Warhol nodded. It slightly surprised him that somebody who led his girlfriend around on a leash had grasped the idea so quickly. Then, he reprimanded himself for the thought. Dani and kitten might be an unconventional couple but they’d sacrificed far more for the war effort than most and the way that had stood by and supported each other was an example a whole lot of other couples should follow.
“It’s no good. I can’t detect any of them.” kitten’s voice was apologetic.
Warhol bit his lip. “We measured your brain signature when you were thinking the numbers. You should be able to get through.”
“kitten, try thinking just the number 48.” Dani spoke quietly, reassuringly. Then he turned to Warhol, “three at once is probably too many.”
A few seconds later, kitten’s voice was triumphant. “Got it.”
“Right now, can you hold that one and look for 97?” kitten nodded and closed her eyes. Again it took a few seconds before her “got it” sounded soft and clear. The third beacon was located quickly. “I’ve got all three Colonel.”
Warhol nodded and the portal generator operators started to push power into the circuit. Kitten had been isolated now, with luck the days when opening a portal would be painful were gone. A few seconds later, the telephone built into the system rang. Warhol picked it up and listened carefully. “Dani, kitten, the portal the other end opened exactly where it was supposed to. This is a good day’s work people. Any plans for the rest of the day.”
Dani thought for a second. “I’m going to sell all our stock in airlines and bus companies.”
Chapter Forty Seven
Sapulpa, Oklahoma, USA
Some things are never forgotten. They may be a sudden, violent event that brands itself on the memory by the sheer unexpectedness of its horror. Or they may be the result of years of suffering that slowly grind the memory into the configuration that makes their grim truth indelible. For the Sampsons, both now over eighty years old, their memories of the dust bowl were moulded by the years they had endured the repeated storms. John Sampson remembered the choking clouds of dust that reduced visibility to a few feet and killed people by filling their lungs with dirt. His father had been a farmer until the great dust storms had literally blown his land away. His crops had gone, his cattle had starved. Only the government Drought Relief Service had saved them by buying the emaciated cattle at well over market price. The starved beasts were too wasted to slaughter for meat, instead, they had been
