10.

With a heavy heart, I brought our two mis- creant warriors to the President of the Twelve. I tried to keep angry thoughts from my mind; judgment and vengeance are the Lord's prerogatives, not ours.

Besides, I genuinely liked Fly Taggart, and I even believed his wild story about fighting the alien de- mons on Phobos and Deimos. And Miss Sanders, now . . .

No, that's wrong. I had no right; I didn't even know her.

I brought them into the chamber of justice to find the President and his mast already seated. He wore a suit; I sighed a hearty prayer of thanksgiving to the Lord that this was to be mast, not a court-martial; the President would have worn his robe for the latter.

"Sit," I commanded, putting a heavy hand on each prisoner's shoulder and pushing him into the waiting chair.

"Who speaks for the outsiders?" asked Bishop Wilston. He was a stickler for legalities.

"They can speak for themselves," said the Presi- dent, "this isn't a formal trial. I just want to find out what the devil happened-and to find out whether the devil himself was responsible."

"Or just the imp of stupidity," I said. The President glared at me; but I learned my manners under his predecessor, who would listen to even the youngest child with a mind to speak. This new fellow was from out of state and a personal mentor of our old Presi- dent, may he rest in peace.

"You're rude," said the President, "but you may beright. Corporal Taggart, as the responsible NCO, what on Earth possessed you to start broadcasting all over the globe from our radio room?"

"Well, um . . ." Fly looked distinctly pink. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Why are you so flipping surprised?" demanded the woman. "Why shouldn't we report to our C.O.?

We just got back from a mission. What the h.e.l.l did you expect?"

For a moment I thought the President was going to burst a blood vessel. We all turned in annoyance to Fly; couldn't he control his woman? His team member?

He was not a stupid man; he spoke up quickly: "Arlene is tired, upset-you know how women get."

Now it was Arlene's turn to turn angry-red, opening and closing her mouth like she wanted to say some- thing devastating but couldn't even find the words.

Wisely, she pressed her lips together and said nothing.

A soft answer turneth away wrath, says the proverb; or again, Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise. The President was mollified and chose to take the question seriously.

"Miss Sanders-"

"Private Sanders, if you will," she said, voice betraying the seething emotion within. Her red hair flamed like a burning house, setting off her green eyes.

"Private Sanders, the 'why' is because the entire military structure of the erstwhile United States, from top to bottom, has been co-opted by the demons. Our former government has capitulated . . , they surren- dered, to put it bluntly, two weeks ago."

"Oh, really! Maybe everybody but the Marines.

Semper fidel-"

"Even the Marines," said the President softly. The sudden change from loud and angry to quiet and cold lent him an air of authority, as was befitting. I must admit, the man had the mark of divine awe; the Lord definitely moved through the President, when he let Him.

"Do you two know what you've done?" asked the bishop. "Even the broadcast itself might have been traced. But to actually tell the forces of darkness where we are . . . ! That pa.s.ses understanding."

"Look, maybe I shouldn't have done that. But they must already have known this was a pocket of resist- ance."

Don't dig yourself a deeper grave, Fly, I thought urgently. Outwardly, I kept my face impa.s.sive; no need to draw the judges' attention to the attempt at blame-shifting.

"But Corporal," said the President, voice at its quietest and most dangerous, "they did not know that you were here. If you still maintain that you and your-your comrade aborted the division invading through Deimos, don't you think you might have incurred a special wrath, a wrath now transferred to us? Perhaps they consider you Demonic Enemy Num- ber One. Did that cross your mind?"

Fly remained silent. Good man. So did Arlene.I stared at the woman; she was not at all bad- looking, not what I would expect of a female Marine.

I had never served with one in my three years of active duty service; she looked tough, but not like an Ameri- can Gladiator.

In fact, the swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and hips was quite womanly; she would be a st.u.r.dy woman, well able to bear many children and face the rigors of life under siege. I could almost see her standing in a doorway, babe in arms ... or lying bare on the bed, awaiting me- Ow! My conscience hammered on my head. What are you DOING, you G.o.dless sinner! Here I was, in the presence of the representative of Jesus Christ Himself, and I was mentally undressing this woman!

Get thee behind me, Satan: thou art an offense to me: for thou savorest not the things that be of G.o.d, but those that be of men.

I concentrated on verses from the Bible and the Book of Mormon, mentally reciting them so quickly I lost all track of the trial and Miss Sanders.

When I blinked back, Fly and Arlene looked chas- tened, humble. They clearly repented of their foolish act and had found their way back to friendship with G.o.d. Pride and Arrogance were banished-well, for the moment.

The President sighed heavily. "Go and be stupid no more. And prepare for an attack, for surely one arrives within an hour or two." He nodded to the bishop, who, as General of the Armies of the Lord, had primary responsibility for readying our defenses.

I already knew my station: Jerry and I manned the dike west of the city, along with two thousand other stalwarts.

I had an idea. "Mr. President," I called. He turned back, pausing at the door. "Sir, I'd like to suggest that Taggart and Sanders be a.s.signed to the defense along- side me."

He stared at me, and I squirmed. "Any particular reason? They've already had their chance and botched it."

"That, sir, is the reason. Let them atone for their mistake. They may have cost the lives of righteous men; let them at least stand beside those men and put their own lives on the line. Let them be at peace."

I glanced at Fly and Miss Sanders, and was tremen- dously relieved to see a grateful look on their faces. I was right about them: stupid, maybe; but they had honor, and they probably felt like children whose rough play accidentally killed the pet dog. I sure would.

The President was a hard man; but he was a just man-else the Lord would not have allowed him to serve as President of the Twelve; the Father has His ways of making His pleasure known. He shook his head, but said, "I think you're too forgiving a man, Albert; but you know them better than I ever could.

Take them, if your C.O. approves."

The bishop was smiling, though not in a friendly way. "He'll approve," he prophesied.Less than half an hour later we were at the line. I took care to see that both Fly and Miss Sanders were armed, so they would know we still extended our trust. It was part of the healing process. And the President's prophecy came true, albeit a little late: in fact, it took the forces of darkness two hours to ma.s.s and attack, not one.

Squinting into the distance, I saw first a column of dust at the ragged edge of vision. We watched for several minutes before even hearing the sound; you can see a long, long way in the Utah desert, where ten miles seems like one. The dust came from a column of Bradley Fighting Vehicles, the same type in which I had trained as a gunner before going to sniper school.

Thank the Lord they hadn't yet had time to scrounge any M-2 tanks!

As they roared up, we surprised them: the ant.i.tank batteries opened up at two klicks. In the still air, the artillery captains had the eyes of angels; they dropped the first load of ordnance directly on the advancing line. The laser spotter-scopes helped.

Once the troops knew they were not up against cowed, frightened refugees, they separated and ad- vanced while evading. I took a risk, standing atop the dike and focusing through binoculars mounted on a pole. It was the BATF in the vanguard, as usual, backed up by FBI shock troops. Reporting the battle order over my encrypted radio, I saw the gold flag of the IRS and realized we would doubtless have to face flamethrowers and chemical-biological warfare sh.e.l.ls.

The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. Regular Army filled in the gaps and supplied most of the grunts-cannon fodder, as we called them.

They brought a contingent of brownies and bapho- mets, but no molochs, praise G.o.d. Probably didn't have any nearby. But I'd bet my last bullet there'd be molochs and shelobs aplenty before the week was out.

There were a few of the unclean undead, but most of the soldiers, horribly enough, appeared to be living allies of the demons. I hoped to spare Fly that knowledge, that our own species would willingly cooperate in the subjugation of men to demons from another star; but maybe it was better he find out now.

I guess he realized how wrong he was . . . but it was a horrible way to find out.

Contact was established a quarter hour later, on the north side of Salt Lake City. Within a few minutes battle was joined in my quadrant as well.

Fly and Arlene acquitted themselves admirably; they were no cowards! I especially enjoyed watching the girl in combat, too busy and scared even to worry whether my interest was righteous or sinful. She loped forward to the out perimeter and spotted for the mortars; my heart was in my throat-if they spotted her, that beautiful body would be blown to tiny pieces in seconds.

Bombs and sh.e.l.ls exploded left and right, but our positions were secure; except for the occasional lucky shot, the evil ones. .h.i.t only stragglers. But I was very glad for my earplugs; Fly had refused a pair, butArlene took them.

We threw back the initial blitzkrieg; the demons simply weren't prepared for that savage a level of resistance. They'd probably never encountered it be- fore. Like the heroic Jews of the Warsaw Ghetto, who stood up to the n.a.z.i butchers, without despair, we forced the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds back and back, until at last they withdrew and formed a circle around our force, three klicks back-out of range, they thought.

After two more hours pa.s.sed without movement, Arlene and Fly took a chance and returned to me.

They looked shaken. I wanted to put my arm around Corporal Taggart, cheer him up; how could he have known? But the gesture would not have been appreciated. He stepped across the dead bodies of righteous men to come to me; he knew what he had done, and the last soul to forgive him would be himself. He would probably carry guilt to his grave, unless he found a minister to unburden himself.

I had the vague thought that he was a Catholic. I would never condone such a perversion of the teach- ings of Christ-in normal times; but in this world, even to call oneself a Christian is a courageous step. I hoped he would find a priest and confess; otherwise, he might never give himself absolution.

"We seemed to have scored a temporary stale- mate," he said, sounding defeated.

"We kicked a.s.s!" argued Arlene.

"You're both right," I said, ever the diplomat.

"But how long can we hold out?" asked Fly. "A few days? A week? Two weeks? Eventually they'll get reinforcements and overrun us." He didn't add and all because of me, but I could tell he thought it.

"Eventually," I agreed. "In about five or six years."

"Years? What the h.e.l.l do you mean?"

I winked. "We've been preparing for this sort of war for a long time, my friend ... we just never realized we'd be fighting literal demons!"

"Jesus . . . who were you expecting to fight?"

The blasphemy angered me, but I let it slide. He was an unbeliever and might not even realize what he'd said. "Exactly who we are fighting; the forces of Mammon. We'd hoped to avert the crisis by engaging in the world, steering it toward the righteousness of the Const.i.tution ordained by G.o.d Himself in 1787.

We sent our members out into the world, joined the Army, the FBI, the Washington power structure. We increased our numbers within the IRS and even within NASA. But in the end, all that effort bought us only advance warning and some spies and saboteurs within the enemy ranks."

Fly shook his head, dazed. He said nothing.

"Now we are the last stronghold in the continental United States. There is but one major enclave left on the planet for humans and the G.o.dly; there centers the Resistance."

"Where?"

I chuckled. "Even if I knew, Fly, I wouldn't tell you. Your interest rate on keeping secrets isn't very high right now."He smiled sardonically. "I guess I wouldn't tell you either, if you'd just done what we did. What / did."

"We," corrected Arlene. "You were right the first time. I stood right beside you and helped you report to Karapetian."

He shrugged, neither confirming nor denying.

"Are there plans to get to the Resistance?"

"If there are, we haven't executed them yet. We can send brief messages-too quick to triangulate or decrypt. But we can't send people."

"Why not?"

"There is some sort of energy barrier that prevents us from leaving the continent . . . and at times, even from leaving an urban center. Los Angeles has one; you cannot fly from L.A. to anywhere else unless the demons drop the wall-which they do only for their own, of course."

"But if you go around the barrier?"

"We've tried; we can't find an edge. It seems to be everywhere. What we need to do is find the source or the control center and shut it off. At least long enough to get our people out, join up with the Resistance.

Otherwise, eventually, we will fall; we have years worth of food and medicine, but not decades worth.

And after a while they will ma.s.s enough troops against us to overrun us in any case.

"Worst-case scenario, you two, we lose this city after a four-month siege. That's if they throw every- thing in the world at us."

"Are you kidding?" demanded an incredulous Arlene. "What about missiles? Nuclear bombs dropped from airplanes?"

"Our agents were heavily involved in the Strategic Defense Initiative . . . remember?" I winked. "And we have anti-air defenses too. We're not worried about nukes; we're more worried about tanks and undead soldiers. None of our defenses were erected with molochs in mind."

"Molochs?"

"What you called steam-demons, I believe."

Suddenly, the radio phone buzzed. The radioman answered, listened for a moment, saying a string of "yessirs." He turned to me. "Albert, the President wants to see your charges."

"Now?"

"Tonight. The captain says he has a mission for them . . . something to prove themselves after their incompetence ... no offense, guys; I'm just quoting."

"None taken," said Arlene, highly offended. My eyes began to dwell longingly on her curves and swells again, and I brutally forced my gaze to the dead and wounded littering the battlefield . . . even their dead.

The corpsmen were already busy, collecting the casu- alties for transportation to hospital.

"Got a time?" I asked.

"Eighteen hundred," said the radioman. I didn't know his name, even though he knew mine; it made me uncomfortable.

I nodded. "Okay, you heard the man. Fly, Arlene, start polishing your bra.s.s. We've got three hoursbefore your mission briefing. And guys?"

They waited expectantly.

"Try not to hose it up. This time."