Armageddon?? (122 page)

None
of them had qualified, not one. Of all the ‘names’ that had dominated the
‘psychic’ industry before the War had started, not a single one had shown any
genuine ability to contact the Hell dimension, or anywhere else for that
matter. Randi grinned to himself, the courts were blocked with law suits, some
individual, some class actions, brought against the fake psychics for fraud and
extortion by their victims. They were all using his Institute’s test results
and the damages being awarded to their victims was mounting satisfactorily. The
work he had started with the James Randi Educational Foundation had born fruit
at last.

With
it, the need for his Institute had gone. The existence of a ‘world after death’
had been proven but it wasn’t a matter of faith or religion. It was just
another plane of existence, one that had been predicted by scientific theory
but never proven. Well, now it had been proven scientifically and science was
showing the way to understanding what was going on there. Humans understood the
Hell dimension a bit, there were human tanks and artillery sitting in the
central plaza of Dis to prove that. The Hell dimension was a strange place, its
basic laws of physics differed a little, not much but a little, from Earth.
Just enough to make it interesting, Massachusetts Institute of Technology was
already offering a Master’s course in “Hell Studies” and were promising a PhD
course as soon as they knew enough to decide what it should contain. Humans
were at work on what made Hell tick and would worry away at the mysteries until
they weren’t mysteries any longer.

What
was it General Petraeus had said to Congress? “Their faith met our firepower.
Firepower won.”

Randi
nodded and closed the door behind him. His work was done all right, the
protocols, the strict testing, the constant guard against fraud, all the
techniques he had pioneered at JREF were now a standard part of the
investigative techniques at DIMO(N). It was strange though, all the
‘professional’ psychics and mediums had turned out the be tricksters but
ever-increasing numbers of people with real abilities were being located. Some
had been aware of their abilities and in most cases their knowledge of what
awaited them the other side had driven them mad. Others had been unaware of
their gift and had been as surprised as anybody else when their abilities had
been revealed.

Science
again, Randi noted, there was even a DNA scanning test to pick out likely
candidates. There were hundreds of people who could open portals and the number
was growing steadily. Randi thought back to the early days when kitten had been
the only reliable link between the dimensions and she had worked herself into
exhaustion to keep the war effort going. She was a civilian, she wasn’t
eligible for the Congressional Medal of Honor, but there were equivalent medals
and she was getting most of them. It seemed that nations around the world were
in a race to give her the highest award they could find.

But,
all that was past. Randi adjusted his tinfoil had and set off down the corridor
to where his car was waiting. The inside of the Pentagon was being refurbished,
again, this time to install metal linings in the walls. That was a part of the
Federal Building Code now, all new buildings had to have metal linings in their
walls. That left only one question, just what was he going to do next?

First
Circle Of Hell, Hell-Pit, Hell

“This
isn’t how I saw it,” kitten looked out of her Humvee at the First Circle. It
was a desolate scene, that much was right, there were ruined buildings, mud,
trash everywhere. But the bitter cold, the biting wind, the night-time darkness
and the constant ravenous starvation were gone. “but this is where I’m going.”

“You’re
wearing your tinfoil hat, kitten.” Colonel Paschal was slightly amused. “If you
had been here when we blew the gates open and hadn’t been, you would have seen
what you expected. Starving people gathered around crude campfires in the mud,
eating maggot-ridden food from garbage skips. Some of it was real, some
illusion and when we took down the mind entanglement, the latter went away.
But, kitten, you’re wrong. You’re not coming here.”

“But
that’s what the future holds for me. I saw it.”

“Sure
you did. But you’re making a mistake, what you foresaw isn’t in your future.
It’s your now. This, here, now, is what you foresaw all those years. You came
to the first Circle of Hell, sure, but what you didn’t see was you brought the
whole United States Army with you. And quite a lot of others as well. You
didn’t come to hell as a victim, you’ve come as a conqueror. You fought the
demons and you won. Now you can get on with the rest of your life.”

“Hey,
kitten!”

The
shout came from outside the Humvee. kitten looked around and saw a group of
eight soldiers running across to the Humvee. Her mind reached out and she
recognized them instantly.

“Tucker!”
She jumped out of the vehicle, just in time to be swept up in Tucker McElroy’s
arms.

He
gave her a resounding kiss and then passed her around the team. “kitten, we’ve
never been able to thank you for everything you did for us. Not properly. And I
guess we never will be able to do it right. But we’re here to do our best.”

“Tucker,
I thought you were up in Tartarus?”

“We
were, but the Marines landed an hour ago and the DSEALs took over from us. So
we portalled out and then over to here. How are you feeling? Did your op go
well?”

“Very
well, The General had everything lined up ready for me. Pretty much all the
work is done now.” kitten hesitated. “You know what my operation was don’t
you?”

“Sure
I do. Be honest, it would have got to me once. Not now. Might be being dead and
all more likely I just grew some common sense but seems to me you had a problem
and the surgeons sorted it out for you so now you’re the way you always should
have been. And every one of us here’s going to get drunk to celebrate for you.
If we can get drunk of course. We haven’t really tried yet. Want to join us in
the experiment”

kitten
giggled. “Can’t I’m afraid, still on medications that don’t allow alcohol. But
when I’m off them, I’ll come and look you all up and we’ll try them OK?”

Executive
Office, Pima Air & Space Museum , Tucson, Arizona

The
sound of R-3350 engines winding down woke Daniel J. Ryan, Executive Director of
the Pima Air and Space Museum up from an exhausted sleep. He’d been trying to
arrange what was left of his museum so that he would have at least an
approximation of a display for his visitors but it had been a hard job. He’d
heard it was worse over at Davis-Montham, there every aircraft worth salvaging
had been removed and the ones that had been left reduced to piles of junk,
stripped to keep the others flying. Then, the significance of the sound sank
home. He looked out of the office window and saw that his B-29 had returned.
Ten seconds later he was running across the taxiway towards the parked
aircraft.

“She’s
back.”

Colonel
Tibbets turned to look at Ryan. “She surely is. And she fought well for an old
Lady. Did three bombing raids on Beelzebub’s army and that’s the least
important part of it. She and her sisters did nearly all the experimental work
that was essential for the bombing raids to work. They freed up the more modern
aircraft for strikes and without them, The Salvation War would have taken a lot
longer. Yup, these old ladies more than earned their keep. Cost us too, you
know three of the ladies crashed when their structure gave out?

“Now,
they’re being retired again. The 40th is to receive B-1Cs and we’re gonna start
conversion soon. So, Mister Ryan, the Air Force says you can have her back
again. On one condition though. You keep her in her Hell camouflage scheme and
with her Hell mission tallies in place.”

“I
wouldn’t have it any other way Colonel.”

Chapter
Eighty Five

Outside
Palelabor, Tartarus, Hell

“Do
you think she’s lying?”

“Of
course she is. This is hell, remember. The only question is, what is she lying
about?” General Thomas Waldhauser was watching the gates of the fortress with
professional interest. “You know, looking at this place, you’d almost think
they were expecting an attack by us. That choke point getting into the valley
was a perfect defensive bottleneck and the valley itself is a great killing
ground. The hills are too steep for Tomahawk to handle and the whole geography
is wrong for a ballistic missile attack. This place would have given us
conniptions if we’d had to force our way in.”

“Even
the baldricks could have fought us on even terms here.” Division Sergeant Major
Carter was also watching the gates of the fortress. It was one of those days
when killing people and breaking their things seemed like an entirely
reasonable way of life. The First Marine Division had been on board their
amphibious warfare ships, pounding north at 20 knots when Dis had fallen. That
had gained all the headlines but it was this operation, the storming of the
northern redoubt, that was the really important one. This was where the attacks
on Sheffield and Detroit had been mounted from. Waldhauser and Carter were both
definitely of the opinion that breaking things was in order.

“The
gates are opening.” Waldhauser was almost speaking to himself but the stir of
activity was easy to see. Tank guns, missile launchers, artillery, MLRS
vehicles, all were training on the great doors in the rock. If the occupants
did try a double-cross, the amount of firepower that could be poured into the
fortress was impressive even by human standards. The baldricks inside would
learn that there was no worse enemy than the United States Marines.

A
golden figure walked out, followed at a respectful distance by others. It was a
gorgon, easily distinguished by the mass of writhing tendrils that formed its
‘hair’. It approached Waldhauser and stood in front of him.

“On
your knees, hands behind your head.” The Marine sergeant snapped the words out.
The gorgon obeyed, indignant at the treatment but determined to obey. Because
obedience meant survival.

“I
am Chatelaine Euryale, mistress of Palelabor.”

“I
will decide what your title is and I will tell you what you are.” Waldhauser’s
voice was ice-cold. “Until then, you are nothing. Understand me?”

“Yes
master.”

“When
addressing the general, first and last words out of your mouth are ‘Sir’.”
Carter spoke abruptly, precisely the way the same order had been given to him,
first day in boot camp. “Try again.”

“Sir,
yes sir.” Euryale clenched her teeth forcing herself to remember that these
were humans, they could destroy anything, any time they wanted.

“Are
all your personnel out of the fortress?”

Euryale
looked carefully behind her and did a count. “Sir, all that survived yes. Many
of my people were killed by the usurper Belial and many more in the rebellion
against him. These are all that are left Sir. But Sir, the passageways and
tunnels beneath Palelabor are deep and complex. It may be that a few of
Belial’s people survive down there. Sir.”

“If
there are, and we find them, they will be killed. The gorgons, order them to
assemble over there.” Carter pointed at a flat area of ground. “You join them.”

Euryale
called her gorgons over and led the way to the indicated area. Flat, no cover,
surrounded by rocks, to her practiced eye, it had every indication of being a
killing ground. One of the marines made a waving motion with his hand and the
party knelt again. Then a group of the marines appeared carrying what looked
like bags. They put one over the head of each of the gorgons, Euryale last. He
last thought before the bag shut light out was whether this would be the execution
she feared.

“Listen
up. You may move the bag so you can see. But you will keep those head things of
yours covered at all times. Any gorgon seen with its head-snakes exposed will
be killed without warning. Do you understand?”

“Sir,
yes Sir.” The gorgons echoed the words.

Waldhauser
turned to his officers. “Order the men in, search that place from top to
bottom. Any baldricks still in there, kill them Find the human slaves, all of
them, bring them out. Once we find out how many are here, we’ll decide what to
do with them.

Broken
Skull Gallery, Shaft 14, Slocum Mine, Tartarus

Publius
had set the ambush up carefully. There was a thing strand of wire across the
tunnel floor, one end securely anchored to the rock, the other tied around a
delicately-balanced support. If something tripped over the wire, the act would
pull that support out and drop a barrage of heavy rocks on the victim. Then,
the humans could close in and beat it to death with their war-hammers. Publius
was proud of those hammers, a heavy wedge of stone, its edges painstakingly
sharpened so that they could cut as well as crush. The whole thing tied to the
end of a solid handle that gave it extra momentum. The war-hammer could crush a
demon skull. If they could find a demon with a skull to crush that is.

“Where
have they all gone?” Simplicus looked around at the humans gathering for the
ambush. The demon presence had vanished, as if the monstrous creatures had
evaporated overnight. It had been three or four days since the last of the
demon overseers had gone away and none had come to replace them. The humans had
continued working for one of those days, then stopped. Then they’d split into
two groups, the sheep and the wolves. No, Simplicus thought, that wasn’t right.
They’d split into three groups, the sheep, who sat around doing nothing, the
wolves, who had already started to prey on the sheep, and the sheep-dogs, who
were protecting the sheep and starting the rebellion against the demons. He,
Publius and the rest of the humans here, they were the sheep-dogs and Simplicus
felt strangely proud of the distinction.