“No active resistance.” General Petraeus corrected her. “There’s the seeds of what could be passive resistance already. We could turn that into a fully-fledged human insurrection if we’re not careful. Remember what happened in Iraq and Afghanistan.”
Asanee nodded. A few years earlier, before the Salvation War had changed everything, she had been in Iraq. Her General had received a request from the Thai unit assigned to Iraq for heavy weapons and landmines to defend against an insurgent attack. She had been sent to investigate the request and judge whether the fears of attack were grounded. A quick visit had turned into a two-month stay and had coincided with the expected attack. It had been beaten off but she remembered all too well how the situation in the country had gone downhill during her time there. “The Chinese and Russians are joining us Sir?”
“They’ll be there. Dorokov is flying in on a Mi-24. I don’t know how Ti plans to arrive.”
The pitch from the V-22’s engines changed as the aircraft transitioned from horizontal to vertical flight. The pilot was bringing the aircraft in to land on a large open area at the top of the steps leading up to Yahweh’s palace. Those steps were too large for humans to climb comfortably. Anyway, bringing an aircraft in made a very unsubtle point. Asanee looked at the lake, its shimmering royal blue now criss-crossed with wakes from ships, AAV-7s and LCACs. It was an impressive sight. Then, there was a gentle bump as the V-22 landed.
The tail ramp dropped down and General Petraeus led the way out. As he emerged, a Marine Corps band struck up a long-familiar tune. It was the words that were slightly strange.
When the Army and the Navy
Finally gazed on Heaven’s scenes
They found the streets were guarded by
United States Marines.
Chapter Eighty Two
Throne Room, The Ultimate Temple, The Eternal City, Heaven.
“This place is a disgrace.” General Ivan Semenovich Dorokhov looked around in barely-veiled disgust. The command group from the Human Expeditionary Army had assembled outside what had one been Yahweh’s palace and entered the anteroom. The building was in a serious state of decay, one only partially concealed by the glittering arrays of precious stones. General Dorokhov looked at the iridescent displays with curiosity. “Has the matter of reparations been discussed yet?”
“The Yamantau Council are still evaluating the matter.” General Petraeus was also surveying the scene that was unfolding before his party. “I believe they have yet to come to a conclusion. The last thing I heard from them was that reparations were required but how they were to be paid is entirely another matter. Who should pay them is also interesting. Yahweh is undoubtedly the responsible party but he is dead. The rest of the angels seem to be as much of his victims as we were. We all saw that concentration camp.”
General Ti Jen-chieh was also inspecting the walls. “I wonder how many peasants and workers died on how many worlds to fill this room with stones.” His words were met with a series of nods. Even a cursory inspection of The Eternal City revealed that far more than a single world had been looted to provide the ever-present displays of gleaming gems.
“And what happened to them after death?” General Asanee was more interested in the carving of the woodwork. Her family were carpenters and sculptors who worked in wood and the craftsmanship in the carving interested her. Personally, and admitting to herself that she might be biased in the subject, she thought the carvings were inferior to the ones her brothers produced. The rifle she was carrying was an example of their work. Technically it was an M16A6 chambered for. 50 Beowulf but the plastic furniture had been replaced by painstakingly-carved and polished mahogany. It was a superbly elegant weapon.
“That, we should find out. If there is still access to such worlds, then we should go there.” General Ti’s voice rang with conviction. “Surely if such people survive, we must help remedy the terrible wrongs that have been done to them.”
“If such people survive.” Asanee noted the qualification. “I suspect we will find that they are extinct and all we can do is honor their memory. As we would have been extinct had our arms not prevailed.” She was saddened by that thought. For all humanity’s devastating victory in The Salvation War, it had been a closer-run thing than people realized. Had it come just a century earlier, she doubted humanity would have prevailed. Even coming when it did, the balance had been fine indeed. Had the human armies run out of ammunition during the Curbstomp War or if Heaven had followed up with an invasion immediately after the fall of Hell, things might have been different. She shook her head and noted with amusement that the senior generals all around her had fallen into step. Old habits died hard. The sight also amused her on another level; once she had been in command of the guard when a deputation of six senior generals had been visiting the King. Unused to the demands of close order drill, when the order ‘face left’ had been given, two of the six had faced right. She’d never said anything but simply given every member of the guard an extra 48 hour leave pass for not bursting out laughing.
The doors were flung open in front of them and the command group stalked through them into the throne room beyond. The ritual was familiar and Asanee decided that General Petraeus had been watching when her people performed similar maneuvers. Ahead of them, in the dim, smoke-tinged room, the shadowed figures of angels were kneeling on the floor, waiting for word from the new masters of the Eternal City.
Even in the dim light it was easy to see the destruction that the battle in this room had wrought. Piles of rubble were strewn across the floor, each giving birth to small clouds of dust as the synchronized human footsteps echoed around the room. The walls and ceiling were blackened and stained, great scabs of plaster had been detached and the precious stones that had formed the signature decor of the Eternal City were blasted from their places and charred black. Asanee noted the heavy bunker built unobtrusively in one corner of the great room. By its dimensions and general design, she got the feeling somebody had looked at the bunkers that formed part of the Maginot Line.
“Who are you?” Petraeus’s voice pierced the gloom and the pent-up tension in the air. His words were clearly aimed at the five figures sitting on a raised dais at one end of the room. It was a curious structure, truncated somehow as if its top had been cut off.
“I am Michael-Lan. Ruler of the Eternal City.” The largest and most beautiful of the angels on the dais answered. Even in the dim light, the angel’s face seemed to glow with beauty.
“Not any more.” Petraeus snapped the words out, determined not to be impressed by the sights around him or the person he was addressing. “And the others?”
“Gabriel-Lan, Raphael-Lan, Charmeine-Lan and Leilah-Lan. All Chayot Ha Kodesh of the Angelic Host. We, all of us, together with the support of much of the population of the City, deposed Yahweh. With the exception of Yahweh himself, the coup was bloodless.”
Petraeus nodded. “Our ruling council has considered your position carefully. I am under orders to advise you that you are to be removed as ruler of Heaven and replaced by another whom I have been authorized to appoint. I am also required to advise you that you are to be held in custody pending our investigations into the nuclear attack on Tel Aviv and the attempted destruction of other cities on Earth.”