“Just what is going on John?”
“We think, and this is an assessment General Petraeus shares, that Yahweh is trying to keep us penned up on Earth and chasing our own tails down here. That may mean he intends to build up a new army and invade in due course, or perhaps he hopes we’ll get so frustrated we’ll give up. Either way, he wants us down here, not up there. Can’t say I blame him for that of course.”
“Janet, the attack on Eucalyptus Hills, what’s the latest news there?”
“The death toll is currently reported as being twelve dead from Uriel’s attack plus three more on the ground caused by missile fragments.”
“Twelve? Is that all? Doctor Surlethe, what’s the scientific cut on this?”
“We can confirm the twelve Sir. Eucalyptus Hills has a population of 9,500 so if we’d seen the same mortality as at El Paso, we would have expected some 75 dead. Uriel scored much less than that so we can count that as a success for our defenses. Also, the pattern of death is interesting. Eucalyptus Hills was a very useful target from our point of view. It is a homogenous community, mostly relatively wealthy young families in their early-mid thirties. This eliminates wealth and age as variables so it gives us a good handle on what Uriel is actually capable of doing. That shows us a useful pattern, all twelve dead were people who lived alone. People who were in even small communities, their families for example or who took in people trapped outside when the sirens went off, survived.”
“The power of love?” The voice was derisive.
“In a way, yes. Their stories are all the same, they felt an invasion of their minds, trying to shut off their ability to breath and their hearts to keep beating. They fought it, refused to accept death and mostly they won. We think the shielding provided by lining houses with metal foil and wearing tinfoil beanies bought them enough time to understand that the attack was underway and resist. In the past, people hadn’t had that protection and they simply died before realizing they were being attacked. Having said all that, the communal aspect of resistance does appear very important. Having their families, friends, pets, other people around them gave them the encouragement and determination to keep fighting. Any military officer will tell you that soldiers in groups fight much better than troops on their own. But, I think this realization goes a long, long way back, right to our earliest folk memories. How many stories are there of a community threatened by a terrible enemy but who survived because everybody gathered in a single place and supported each other? Stories like that are a standard part of every country’s mythology. We’re prepared to bet those are folk memories of Uriel attacks that failed.
“So, assuming Uriel survives or is replaced by another Archangel with similar powers, our defenses should include gathering people into the largest possible groups and not leaving anybody alone. Bring the pets in as well, its interesting to note that pets that were brought in survived this attack, those left outside did not. One woman even claims that her dog helped her fight off Uriel. Might be true too, she was alone in her house apart from that dog. But, we need to build community shelters, heavily protected with metal shielding and large enough for people to gather together.”
“Assuming Uriel lives. John, how is the hunt going?”
“The news broadcast has it right for once. We’re still hunting and we know that Uriel is badly hurt. The ground troops found the spot where he came down, there’s a dent in the soil where he landed and there’s burned flesh and skin debris in the area. We think that the radars on the Normandy hurt him as much as the missiles, they effectively micro-waved him in mid-air. Those designation beams are powerful, they only warm an aircraft up a bit, that’s how they detect stealth aircraft, warm them up and spot them on thermal viewers, but against unshielded flesh? Very nasty. Anyway, he ducked missiles over El Paso, but he couldn’t duck a high-energy beam. Incidentally, we don’t give much for his reproductive chances after that.
“Other than that, we’re still searching. He’s dragged himself off somewhere and he’s hiding. The DIMO(N) net doesn’t report any portals forming so we think he’s still out there. We can assume he’s recovering, our experience is that daemons and angels don’t die of wounds. If they’re not killed outright by damage that overwhelms them, they recover. So he’s out there and he’s getting better.”
“Doctor Surlethe?”
“I concur Mister President, we have to find him before he regenerates. But, I find that information about high energy beam effects very interesting. Perhaps we’re not using the right weapons against Uriel.”
Chapter Twenty Six
Throne Room, The Ultimate Temple, Eternal City, Heaven
The Seraphim and Cherubim, along with all the other strange creatures that kept Yahweh amused, were developing a conditioned reflex. As soon as they saw Michael-Lan approaching to give his report on the progress of the war against the humans, they dived for cover. As he entered the Holiest of Holies, the badly-chipped marble of the temple walls suggested that the Master Mason had given up on repairing the damage from previous reports and was now just contenting himself with fixing the bits Yahweh could see. In the dim glow that filled the throne room, that wasn’t very much.
In front of him, the One Above All Others sat staring moodily at the seven great, gold lamps, watching the clouds of scented smoke hang in thick, hazy clouds. He still hadn’t recovered from the shock of Wuffles death and he had vetoed sending the Scarlet Beast and his rider to further vex the humans. Michael-Lan had been annoyed and surprised by that. He had planned on getting rid of them both that way. The humans would oblige him, he didn’t doubt that for a moment. They were killing off his enemies and rivals quite nicely and Yahweh was becoming steadily more isolated. He needed to get the veto reversed, that was one of his objectives today.
Michael-Lan took his accustomed position in the middle of the lamps and knelt down on both knees, prostrating himself and pressing his flawless lips to the cold, dark jade floor. The ceaseless chant of “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was, and is, and is to come. You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being”, quieted, and then died to whispers. In the gloom, Michael-Lan saw their eyes shifting around trying to find the nearest cover from the inevitable explosion. In the faces of the 24 members of the Eternal Choir, Michael-Lan could see the malicious enjoyment that warred with fear at the prospect of the events to come. Good for you boys Michael thought, I’ll try and live up to your expectations. Now, let the good times roll.
From the white throne, the voice of Yahweh thundered: “Michael-Lan, my general, what news do you bring me? Do the humans still defy my will?”
Of course they do, meadow-muffin. The serious question is how much longer you will defy theirs. “They cower in fear at our righteous wrath, Lord Above All Others, but still they remain recalcitrant. Humans blaspheme the Your Peerless Name.” Very inventively if I may say so “and they have evicted You from their places of learning and from their government offices. In all their cities and towns, from all their public places, and even from each person’s home You have been cast out. No longer do they give glory to You, and they continue to do their evil deeds. Putting it bluntly, Father of All, they have decided that they do not want You. Your own Holy Church has disowned you and curse your name as a usurper who has replaced the One True God.”
It was an all-time record, Michael-Lan had never got continuing thunderclaps and technicolor lightning this early in a meeting before. Marble fragments sprayed from the walls and lashed across the room. Michael-Lan glanced across to the traditional position of the Master mason and saw why the throne room hadn’t been fully repaired. The mason had built himself a quite well-designed bunker in one corner. As Michael watched, a stick with a white flag on the end rose from behind the walls and waved backwards and forwards. The movement attracted the attention of a pair of Seraphim who abandoned their cover behind a table and fled to the bunker. They vanished behind the walls, then were unceremoniously thrown out. Fortunately for them, the storm of fragments was dying down and they escaped with only a few serious wounds.