Armageddon?? (21 page)

“It’s
the same across the board I fear. We’ll get it straightened out but we’re
running off stocks until we do.”

On
the screen, Petraeus nodded. It was more or less what he has suspected.”

White
House Conference Room, Washington DC

“Thank
you General Petraeus. Doctor Surlethe, what are the results from our
investigations of the baldricks.”

“They’re
going to start flooding in fast now Sir. We’ve had only limited samples to work
with to date but now, with all this in Iraq, that’s going to change. And we’ve
got the succubus that defected. We could learn a lot simply by dissecting her.”

“No
way.” Director of National Intelligence Donald MacLean Kerr jumped straight on
the idea. “She’s the first live baldrick we’ve got our hands on. We need to
talk to her, she knows how hell is organized, what its chains of command are,
what its social and political structures are like. We’re not dealing with a
different country here, or even a different world. We’re dealing with an
entirely different dimension. We need to know how that dimension works, what
its economy is like, if indeed it has an economy. We need to know what sort of
enemy we are fighting and what his resources are like. We can’t get any of that
from her dissected corpse.”

“And
suppose she won’t tell you?” Doctor Surlethe jumped straight back.

“We
could always waterboard her?”

“How
do you know she can’t breath water?” Secretary Rice’s voice was droll.

“Exactly
my point.” Surlethe was getting impassioned. “Military and political data is
all very well, economic information too, but first we need to know much more
about the baldricks themselves. How do they work? Can we get some idea of what
powers they take for granted but seem magical to us? I’m sorry Don, but
investigation of the baldricks themselves must come first. Which is rather
unfortunate for her of course.”

“Gentlemen.”
The room quieted as President Bush spoke. “You are forgetting that this
succubus came over to us on a promise that she would not be ill-treated. We did
not make that promise but it was made to her on our behalf by our allies. We
cannot go back on our word. We must not.”

“She
didn’t defect voluntarily, she had a ring of guns pointed at her.”

“I
know. If she’d fought, she’d still probably have killed some of those women.
She chose not to.”

“Sir.”
General Petraeus spoke from the screen. “There is a practical side to this as
well. We have one defector who came over on a promise of good treatment. How we
treat her may very well decide how many more baldricks decide to surrender or,
even better, defect. If they get the idea that surrendering is a way out from
certain death facing our tanks and artillery, it might end this war more
quickly. It may very well mean fewer of our people get killed. Treating
surrendered enemy personnel with extreme brutality has never worked to the
favor of those committing such acts.”

“I
agree.” Secretary Warner added his emphasis. “We’ve danced on a thin line
during the War on Terror and shot ourselves in the foot doing it. We should not
repeat that mistake.”

“General,
Secretary Warner, your practical comments add weight to my instincts on this.
Doctor Surlethe, you may investigate the succubus using non-invasive methods
provided they do not inflict harm upon her. You may, with her consent, take
blood samples etc. But there will be no dissection, is that clear?” Surlethe
nodded. Unhappily but still a nod.

“Mister
Randi, how is your end of this going?”

“Very
well Sir, we made a breakthrough today. A young…..” Randi hesitated and then
decided to keep going. “… woman came in, she can see in to hell. We have her
trying to contact some of our deceased personnel now. Hunting through psychics
and mediums was a false step, none of them turned out to be anything other than
common mountebanks and tricksters, but we have found some interesting cases
under psychiatric care. Also, our advertisements have brought in a few people
with promise. We have another young lady who can get into the mind of a demon
and she’s exploiting that right now. As soon as we can work out how to expand
that from talking to one demon into talking to all of them at one, we’ll launch
Radio Free Hell.”

Andrews
Air Force Base, Maryland, USA.

Lugasharmanaska
was utterly bewildered. She’d been on earth not so long ago, a mere couple of
centuries, but she’d had nothing like these experiences then. How had all these
machines suddenly appeared? She’d flown for hours in a huge sky chariot, one
loaded down with crates of more things called supplies. The crew had been nice
to her of course, that was inevitable, they’d offered her food and drink and
she’d accepted it even though it wouldn’t quench her appetite much. Her body
craved raw meat, preferably torn from a still-living body and the thing she’d
been given didn’t even come close. Just what was a ‘hot pocket’ anyway?

She
could have adapted more easily to the sights around her if there weren’t so
many of them. The city she had been assigned to was bad enough, all those tiny
chariots racing around, but this great field was full of the huge Sky Chariots.
Even as she watched, a different one was coming in to land. To her incredulous
eyes, it changed even while it did so, its swept-back wings suddenly swinging
forward to reach straight out. Then it touched down on the long black strip and
started to slow. Immediately a band started playing, making her jump.

“Yeah,
bands do that.” The Air Force policeman watching her was sympathetic. Of
course. Her mind-mask didn’t work any more but the miasma was still doing its
job of creating sympathy with the humans around her. “It’s the 32nd Tactical
Fighter Wing standing up. That’s the first F-111 to rejoin the Air Force.”

None
of that made much sense to Lugasharmanaska. She did note one thing though, the
Sky Chariot that had brought her was painted light gray, the one that had just
landed was a cloudy mix of gray and orange-red. It never occurred to her that
its paint job was an exact match to the skies of hell.

A
long black ground chariot had pulled up and she was escorted into the back
seat. The driver looked at her with hate that quickly faded to mild affection.
The door closed behind her and the chariot pulled away. Lugasharmanaska
couldn’t see where the horses were hidden. Still, it didn’t matter. What did
matter was that she was safe. She quickly recalled the split second of blind
panic when she looked at the ring of guns pointed at her and knew death was but
a split second away. Miasma had done its work, Lugasharmanaska didn’t know it
but the panic had kicked her glands into working overtime and secreting human
pheromones that created sympathy for her with everybody around. That had bought
her just enough time. She’d worked her situation out with speed and hedged her
bets by surrendering. If the demons won, she would have fulfilled her mission
and penetrated the enemy leadership, gaining vital information. She would have
done her duty and be rewarded. If the humans won, and looking around her
Lugasharmanaska had an unpleasant feeling they might, she would be the first
defector and would also be well-rewarded. No matter who won, she would be safe.

Sacramento,
California

Norman
Baines sighed and rubbed his eyes, and glanced at his watch. He'd been sitting
in front of his computer for about ten hours, plowing through a weeks' worth of
reports for his job. He didn't actually have to work forty hours, as long as it
LOOKED like he did. "Time for breakfast." Victor, one of his cats and
self-appointed overseer gave a 'rowr' of approval as he hopped down and padded
after Baines towards the kitchen. Two other cats, Roger and Clarence, soon
joined him as they all gathered around their communal bowl. Baines peeked
through the kitchen blinds and gave the sky a glance. "No eternal darkness
yet," He said with a wry grin. His 'boys' looked up at him, curiously,
"looks like the betting pool is still open!" With that Victor,
Clarence, and Roger bent down to their dry food. Fixing a bowl of nondescript
bachelor chow, he wandered over to the couch and turned on the TV.

He
sighed at the empty beer cans on the coffee table, they were his way of coping
with the betrayal he'd felt after the Message came out. A man in his late
twenties, Baines had been very active in his church, a faithful man but also
fairly rational. And, as Dawkins had said, extraordinary claims required
extraordinary evidence. He'd gone to services once, but it had seemed hollow.
Now he spent his days processing reports for his job from his home computer,
enjoying the relative safety of his home.

Picking
up the remote, he flipped through the channels.

*CLICK*

"Hey
kids, its Bill Nye the Science Guy here! Be sure to keep your foil hats on at
all times, you can never be too safe. Let's see how science protects YOU from
the baldr-"

*CLICK*

"The
Top Ten Signs that annoying guy in your office might be a demon number ten:
Instead of decaf he drinks brimsto-"

*CLICK*

"And
if you act now we'll throw in a FIFTH digital camera for free so you can
monitor your home for demons twenty-four-seven!"

*CLICK*

"Coming
through the desert in West Iraq, if you come to East Compton I'm gonna bust a
cap! Don't bring your demon nonsense up in my hood, the Crips are rollin' large
and we up to no good!"

Baines
sighed and looked at Clarence, now bathing himself on the recliner. "I
don't know if its more disconcerting that he's rapping about demons, or that
it's a good tune." There was a loud knock at the door. He walked over and
picked up a digital camera. Opening the door, he turned it on and looked at the
screen. Humans.

He
looked up and his eyes widened. It was in fact two men in suits and two men in
army uniforms carrying automatic weapons. "Norman L. Baines?" One of
the suited men asked.

"Ye-yes,
sir." Baines stammered It was a strange feeling to be unused to talking to
someone else. He hadn't said five words to a human being since the Message. He
stuck out a foot to prevent Victor from making an escape.

“My
name is Robert O'Shea, I'm with the Pentagon. This is my colleague, Doctor
Watts. May we have a few moments of your time?" He stood solidly, implying
that his request was nothing but. Dr. Watts, however, looked like someone who
would rather be anywhere else.

"Ah,
sure, come on in." Baines shook himself out of his momentary daze and
ushered the men in, hurriedly moving dirty dishes and stacks of books and
papers out of the way. One guard remained at the front door and the other
simply nodded to O'Shea and began to move through the house. "Please, sit
down.", Baines gestured to a dingy sofa. O’Shea sat down, but Doctor Watts
remained standing, studying one of Baines's bookcases. "How can I help you
guys?"

"We
wanted to talk to you about your book, Mr. Baines." O’Shea opened his
briefcase and pulled out a thick, collated document bound in plastic.

"I
never… my…" Baines took the book and his eyes bulged as he read the cover,
The Science of Hell, by N. L. Baines. "But this wasn't published! Where…
how in the hell did you even GET....CHARLIE!" He looked at O’Shea.
"Charlie gave it to you! That bastard!"

"That's
right Mr. Baines, your brother gave this to us. Don't be hard on him though.
The President recently signed an executive order requesting all knowledge of
demonology and demon-history be surrendered to our department. Had Lt. Baines
withheld this document, he could have been tried for treason." O’Shea
leaned in closely, his eyes scrutinizing Baines inch by inch "Where do you
get your information, Mr. Baines?"

Baines's
mind swam. He'd had this same feeling in graduate school when he showed up for
his final on archaeological methods after spending the night cramming for
medieval literature. "What? Uh... I just kinda read-up on it. It's a
hobby, you know?"

A
snort from Dr. Watts drew Baines's attention to the bookshelf. "This is
the Key of Solomon?" Baines shrugged. "In Latin? That's a bit more
than a 'hobby', Mr. Baines.

Baines
felt his hackles rise, "And what? I'm supposed to trust that dipwad,
Mathers to translate it correctly for me?"

Watts
wasn't listening as he pawed through more books, "O’Shea look at this
nonsense: A Field Guide to Demons, A Dictionary of Angels, Dragon Magic,
Secrets of the Vatican, Norse Runes and Magic..." He shook his head in
disgust. "He's just a nut. We're wasting our time."

Baines
was on his feet in an instant. O'Shea was startled that this mild-mannered
scientist could look so enraged "Now you listen to me, you pompus,
self-assured, g-man prick! I don't come into the Pentagon and tell you how to
polish your desk and shuffle your papers, so don't tell me what I know in my own
house!" He took the books out of Watt's hands, and pointed at the couch.
"By the way, you're right. Most of what's in these books is ridiculous
superstition and nonsense, collected by centuries of nut-jobs. However,"
his voice began to change into the voice of an excited professor and O'shea was
briefly reminded of his History professor back at NYU.

Watts
rolled his eyes. "For example?"