a shadow,
it was more of an absence of anything. The cameras zoomed in on the strange
spreading stain that still grew beneath it.
“Well,
that looks like it.” Brigadier General Boothe looked at the image with
horrified fascination. If the guesses were right he was looking at something
humanity had discussed, described and occasionally cursed but never actually
seen, the mouth of Hell itself. The black shadow had stopped spreading and
seemed to be holding its breath. “Is that thing flat on the ground or
perpendicular to it?”
“Can’t
tell.” Wilkens spoke quietly, the tension in the room seeming to dull voices.
“I think it’s a different dimension entirely, we’re not seeing it, we’re seeing
its shadow. I don’t think it has dimensions or proportions as we understand
them.”
Something
stirred in the shadow and a line of figures started to appear. “Zoom in on
that.” The order came from the commander of the UAV detachment that was
operating the Global Hawk. The image enlarged in a series of jerks as the
operator clicked up through the zoom scales. The group of figures resolved, one
huge figure surrounded by a group of others. Then, another smaller group
appeared out of the shadow, followed by lines of others.
“What
do you make of that?” Wilkens wanted other opinions, other eyes looking at
this.
“First
group, the command group. Now. We’ve got combat troops appearing.” The analyst
looked quickly at the emerging lines. “They’re coming out in a parade
formation. If we only had the assets within range.”
“The
alerts gone off to the fly-boys and the squids. We’ll have jets here soon
enough. And we’ve got the friends with their toy on scene.”
On
the screen the figures had continued to pour out of the portal, forming up into
a huge square on the desert. The UAV operator dialed his cameras in again. “OK,
that formation seems to be complete. I make it 81 ranks, each of 81 baldricks.
They’re subdivided into 9 groups of 9 ranks with a command section between
each. I guess that gives us 6,666 down there.”
“Appropriate
number. About a brigade-sized formation then? And that would make the smaller
sub-divisions battalions.” There were nods around the room, it seemed fair
enough, 9 ranks of 81 meant 729 demons in a battalion. This was translating raw
numbers into a structure that could easily be understood – and to the people in
this room, what could be understood could be destroyed. Once structure, form and
numbers were evaluated and put into context, destruction was a matter of
planning. “Each line is a company with nine nine-baldrick platoons?” More nods
of agreement
“If
that’s it, this is something we can cope with.” Boothe spoke as if he was
trying to convince himself. He needn’t have bothered, the situation was
changing even while he spoke.
“More
coming out Sirs.” On the television screen, a second square was forming beside
the first, the stream of black figures emerging from the Hellmouth coalescing
into a second square to the right of the first. Even as it was completed, a
third square started forming to the left of the first. Still the figures poured
out, new squares forming until the line had seven in all.
“Assuming
the squares are all identical, there’s almost 47,000 of them down there. The
baldricks aren’t playing games are they?”
Wilkens
shook his head. Even as he did so, the line of seven squares started to move
forward and another wave of black figures poured out, forming into squares
exactly as their predecessors had done. The command center was utterly silent
as the imagery poured in from the cameras on the Global Hawk. The second line
of squares was finished, moved forward and a third row started, then a fourth.
By the time the figures ceased to pour out, there were eight rows in all, 56 of
the black squares spread out on the Iraqi sand.
“Rows
are divisions, the whole thing’s a Corps.” More nods of agreement, faced with
the huge
it was more of an absence of anything. The cameras zoomed in on the strange
spreading stain that still grew beneath it.
“Well,
that looks like it.” Brigadier General Boothe looked at the image with
horrified fascination. If the guesses were right he was looking at something
humanity had discussed, described and occasionally cursed but never actually
seen, the mouth of Hell itself. The black shadow had stopped spreading and
seemed to be holding its breath. “Is that thing flat on the ground or
perpendicular to it?”
“Can’t
tell.” Wilkens spoke quietly, the tension in the room seeming to dull voices.
“I think it’s a different dimension entirely, we’re not seeing it, we’re seeing
its shadow. I don’t think it has dimensions or proportions as we understand
them.”
Something
stirred in the shadow and a line of figures started to appear. “Zoom in on
that.” The order came from the commander of the UAV detachment that was
operating the Global Hawk. The image enlarged in a series of jerks as the
operator clicked up through the zoom scales. The group of figures resolved, one
huge figure surrounded by a group of others. Then, another smaller group
appeared out of the shadow, followed by lines of others.
“What
do you make of that?” Wilkens wanted other opinions, other eyes looking at
this.
“First
group, the command group. Now. We’ve got combat troops appearing.” The analyst
looked quickly at the emerging lines. “They’re coming out in a parade
formation. If we only had the assets within range.”
“The
alerts gone off to the fly-boys and the squids. We’ll have jets here soon
enough. And we’ve got the friends with their toy on scene.”
On
the screen the figures had continued to pour out of the portal, forming up into
a huge square on the desert. The UAV operator dialed his cameras in again. “OK,
that formation seems to be complete. I make it 81 ranks, each of 81 baldricks.
They’re subdivided into 9 groups of 9 ranks with a command section between
each. I guess that gives us 6,666 down there.”
“Appropriate
number. About a brigade-sized formation then? And that would make the smaller
sub-divisions battalions.” There were nods around the room, it seemed fair
enough, 9 ranks of 81 meant 729 demons in a battalion. This was translating raw
numbers into a structure that could easily be understood – and to the people in
this room, what could be understood could be destroyed. Once structure, form and
numbers were evaluated and put into context, destruction was a matter of
planning. “Each line is a company with nine nine-baldrick platoons?” More nods
of agreement
“If
that’s it, this is something we can cope with.” Boothe spoke as if he was
trying to convince himself. He needn’t have bothered, the situation was
changing even while he spoke.
“More
coming out Sirs.” On the television screen, a second square was forming beside
the first, the stream of black figures emerging from the Hellmouth coalescing
into a second square to the right of the first. Even as it was completed, a
third square started forming to the left of the first. Still the figures poured
out, new squares forming until the line had seven in all.
“Assuming
the squares are all identical, there’s almost 47,000 of them down there. The
baldricks aren’t playing games are they?”
Wilkens
shook his head. Even as he did so, the line of seven squares started to move
forward and another wave of black figures poured out, forming into squares
exactly as their predecessors had done. The command center was utterly silent
as the imagery poured in from the cameras on the Global Hawk. The second line
of squares was finished, moved forward and a third row started, then a fourth.
By the time the figures ceased to pour out, there were eight rows in all, 56 of
the black squares spread out on the Iraqi sand.
“Rows
are divisions, the whole thing’s a Corps.” More nods of agreement, faced with
the huge
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