Armageddon?? (115 page)

“Village
up ahead Colonel.”

“Deploy,
standard drill.” Since her return to Hell, her battalion had done this
operation a number of times. This was the first time that they’d been out of
the area that fed and supported Dis though, it wasn’t likely that would make
any difference. She looked through the tank’s optics and saw an embankment, a
few pitiful feet tall crossing the track that led into the scattering of small
huts beyond. She knew what was beyond it, a ditch, digging that had provided
the red soil that made the fortifications. She almost snorted at that and then
remembered her dignity as a Colonel. Lieutenants snorted, Colonels looked
fierce. She had to remember that. Even if she had only been a colonel for a few
days and had spent barely more time in the ranks between.

“Hokay,
all units, on the barricade, high explosive, open fire.”

Thirty
Abrams tanks fired in a single salvo, hiding the earth embankment behind the
rolling orange balls as the 120mm guns sent their shells downrange. The two
Bradley companies held their fire, they were on overwatch, waiting for any
harpies to appear. Stevenson looked at the destruction developing the baldrick
position and shook her head quietly to herself. This wasn’t war, it was getting
to have the unpleasant characteristics of a massacre. Had the troops at Wounded
Knee felt this way?

“Cease
fire. Advance slowly, prepare to open up again if there’s any resistance.” The
tanks jerked and then started their slow roll forward. There was no hurry, the
120mms were loaded and ready to fire. Her battalion had older Abrams tanks,
ones pulled from the boneyard and refurbished. The new production tanks had
90mm guns, once mounted in M47s and M48s and stored away. Those new Abrams were
called stubbies and their crews were the butts of crude jokes about the size of
their equipment. Stevenson shook her head more obviously, jokes like that was
never a problem she’d had to face. But, in truth, the 90mm killed a baldrick
just as dead as a 120mm and the smaller gun allowed the tank to carry twice as
much ammunition.

“Will
you look at that?” The voice came over the vehicle intercom. Her Abrams was
cresting the battered remnants of the barricade and the crew could see the
baldricks who’d been sheltering behind that. “Colonel, I thought you said these
things were big.”

“They
are, or the ones we met so far were. Eight feet, sometimes ten or eleven.”

“Well
these ain’t. Same size as us I’d say. Six feet tops. And they don’t even have
tridents. Looks to me like those poor bastards have got farm tools for
weapons.”

Stevenson
looked down, at the bodies surrounding the tank. They were smaller than the
ones she’d seen on her first tour all right. And their weapons? She could see a
pitchfork and a scythe. One had a wooden pole with what looked like a knife
tied to the end. A crude spear. They’d faced up to tanks and they’d been armed
only with farm implements and kitchen knives?

She
flipped to the battalion command frequency. “Hokay, we take the village. Don’t
shoot if you don’t have to, the baldricks over here are just farmers. Remember,
a scythe can kill you just as dead as a 120 so if anybody fights, waste them.
But if they don’t fight, we don’t shoot, got it?”

Her
tank nosed forward again, heading for the gap between the rows of huts that
served as a main street. There was nobody in sight, no barricades, nothing. It
was an eerie sensation, the words ‘its quiet, too darned quiet’ ran through her
mind. Then, from one of the buildings a baldrick ran out, one more of the size
she remembered and this one did have a trident. She reacted instantly, the
remote-controlled machine gun mounted over the main gun swiveled and fired a
burst. The baldrick lurched as the .50 caliber bullets tore home, then
collapsed as a second burst finished it off. That was it, that was all?

The
mechanized infantry were dismounting from their carriers, spreading out through
the huts. Stevenson joined the lead group (much to the private dismay of the
Lieutenant who was also leading it) and waited while two of the men moved up to
the building. The job was done in standard style, they kicked the crude door
in, it was barely more that a collection of brushwood anyway, and a second pair
dived through, rolling as they landed, their M4 carbines scanning for targets.
Stevenson followed them in, just in time to hear the scream from the dimly lit
room.

“No,
please, don’t kill them.” A female baldrick was in one corner of the hut, crouched
over something, her arms spread protectively over whatever it was she was
hiding. “Kill me but don’t kill them.”

Stevenson
looked closely, and listened. There was a thin wailing from under the baldrick,
one she recognized from her childhood in Bayonne. An infant that had picked up
on its mother’s terror and was itself terrified although it didn’t know why.

“Hold
fire, she’s protecting her kids.” Stevenson looked again, more closely.
“There’s two of them. Get a light over here.”

One
of the infantrymen brought a flashlight over and shone it on the female
baldrick. She was still sprawled over the infants and moaning gently. “Not my
kidlings no.”

“Aww,
ell-tee look at this. Their babies. Cute little things, even got little
beards.” The private looked at his battalion commander. “Sorry Ma’am. Forgot
you were here for a moment.”

“Forget
it private, I guess I shouldn’t be.” Stevenson turned her attention to the
female. “It’s all right, we’re not going to hurt them. You don’t fight us, we
don’t fight you. Have you food for them?”

The
female nodded, her yellow slitted eyes looking around suspiciously.

One
of the soldiers had come over and was looking down at the babies. “They really
are cute.” He dug in a pocket and got out a candy bar. “Reckon they can eat
this all right?”

Stevenson
nodded. “Saw it back at Hell-Alpha. Abigor’s people love chocolate. Even the
kidlings. Ma’am, is it all right for us to give your kids some candy?”

The
female still looked suspicious so the soldier with the bar broke off a piece
and ate it himself. Then he broke off another piece and gave it to the kidling
who seized it and started to chew. The chocolate vanished with astounding
speed.

“Here,
kid, have another piece. YOW! Hey Colonel, ell-tee, be careful they bite.”

Stevenson
remembered her job. “Check this place for weapons then move out.” She left the
hut, watching the soldier give his candy bar to the female as they left.

Out
in the center of the village, her medical team was working on another female,
this one smeared with bright yellow blood. “Colonel, we need help. This one
caught a stray fifty-cal. Hurt bad.”

A
brief nod, one thing her division wasn’t short of was medical facilities. The
ToE was built around a reasonable casualty level, not this walk-over. Once
again her conscience started pricking her. “I’ll get a medevac for her.
Lieutenant, see to it. Pronto.”

Most
of the other villagers were kneeling in the dust of the street, their hands
clasped behind their heads. They were all much smaller than the ones she’d seen
before, the baldrick her tank had killed had been the only one comparable with
them. That thought gave her a clue. “Was that your leader?”

“He
was our Lord, yes.” A baldrick, perhaps a little braver than the rest spoke up.

“A
lord who sent you out to die and hid himself? Hokay, you didn’t get lucky with
your choice of lord did you?” There was a stir of agreement at that. “Look, we
don’t want to hurt you.”

“You
will not kill us all?”

“Of
course not.” Stevenson was painfully aware that she could very easily have done
just that. All it would have taken was a lightning bolt from a hut and all of
these baldricks, and the chocolate-loving kidling would have been blasted as
the tanks drove through. “We try not to kill those who don’t fight us. You spread
the word to the other villages, if they don’t fight us, we won’t hurt them.”

There
was a stir in the assembled baldricks, a mixture of hope and disbelief. She
went over to her command track, one she very rarely used. She just felt better
riding in a tank. “Patch me through to Brigade.”

There
was a wait for a few seconds while the signal went through. One nice thing
about Hell, with the baldricks not having electronics, there was no
interference or jamming to worry about. “Sir, we’ve got a situation here.”

“Resistance
Stevenson?” She picked up on the note of surprise.

“No
Sir. Oh, they blocked the road but we blew that away, killed some of them I
regret to say, but the village is ours. No fighting in the populated area. We
killed the village lord though, he went for a tank with a trident. One other
civilian wounded, rest are fine. They seem harmless,

“They
are. Stevenson, according to the scientists, these baldricks are Minor Demons.
The ones we have been fighting and seen in the hell-pit and around Dis are
Lesser Demons, the next size up. These Minor Demons are peasants, serfs,
villeins, little more than slaves themselves. We’re getting the same reports
across the whole front. You say you killed their lord?”

“Yes
Sir?”

“That
means you are their new lord. Promotion by assassination, its something the
Baldricks understand. How does it feel to be the Lady of the Manor?” There was
a degree of humor in the brigade commander’s voice.

“I
don’t think my momma would believe it Sir.”

“Well,
you’re stuck with the job until we can get civilian affairs up there. Do the
best you can.”

“Very
good Sir. I’m sending some of the villagers out to tell the surrounding
settlements, don’t fight us, we won’t hurt you.”

“Good
move. Brigade out.”

Stevenson
thought for a few seconds then turned to the baldricks kneeling in the dirt.
“Hokay, I’m your new lord.” There was a stir of satisfaction and relief. The
baldricks accepted that they weren’t all about to be killed. “And stand up,
we’re your lords now and we don’t like people who grovel in the dirt. And we
really don’t like people who make others do that. Have you all got food here?”

There
silence, the baldricks glancing at each other. Stevenson sighed and pointed at
one, the same one who had spoken up earlier. “You, has the village got enough
food?”

“We
have some noble lord.”

“Enough?”

The
baldrick shook his head. “The lords took it for Dis.”

Stevenson’s
mouth twitched. Her unit was carrying supplies, mostly MREs. They’d have to do.
“Hokay. there are crops on your farms, will they be ready soon?”

“Yes
Noble lord. You will be taking them?” There was hopelessness in the voice.

“Of
course not. We will give you some of our food. Until your crops are ready or we
can arrange something more permanent.”

The
shock on the baldrick face was immediate. As the realization spread, Stevenson
saw the baldricks expression change to one of hope. The females were first,
they realized that they would have food for their kidlings after all. The
surviving males picked up on their relief and also started to relax. Stevenson
looked around and decided there could be something in this 'Lord' business.

Chapter
Eighty

The
Amphitheater of Tranios, Underneath the City of Dis, Hell

It
had once been a gigantic volcanic bubble, a chamber filled with lava from the
vents underneath. Then, during the great eruption that had created the Hell Pit
super-caldera, the bubble had vented to the outside and the magma had drained
away. All that had been left was this great cavern buried deep in the
super-volcano mount, its vents long sealed by the action of time and rock.
Above it, hundreds of feet of solid rock, far below it, the lava still roiled
and grumbled but never tried to make its way to the surface for another
devastating eruption. Would it do so one day? Nobody knew but everybody present
in the great chamber did understand it was much safer to be down here than on
the surface where the human aircraft prowled overhead.

The
demons didn’t know the term ‘air supremacy’, not the ones here anyway. They
understood the concept though, they were in process of being given a
post-graduate education in it. It meant they couldn’t move without being
bombed. Yes, down here in the great volcanic bubble was much safer.

Or,
to be more precise, the risks were ones they well understood. Most of them
centered around the huge red figure at the end of the hall, sitting on a throne
hurriedly carved from the volcanic rock. The throne was rough, unpolished and
simple, a spectacle far removed from the ornate structure now laying crushed to
powder in the ruins of Satan’s palace. If Satan lost his temper, even the
Greater Demons here could die. On the other hand, being seen on the surface
meant they would die. Could beat would.

“Your
Majesty, I have to report that the city is completely isolated from the rest of
hell. The humans control all the access points and their troops increase in
number every day. Their artillery has already started firing on the walls of
Dis.”