Jack Chalker - Balshazzar's Serpent

And, just before Cromwell sealed his suit, the two of them went back into Woodward’s quarters and took a communion together, imploring God to be with them and the captives.

They were just emerging when a young male member of the Arm rushed in. He seemed nervous and a bit awed at the sight of both leaders so close up, but it didn’t stop him.

“Sir? Doctor Woodward?”

“Yes, boy?”

“John Robey, sir! They took my partner and almost got me, but I got in here just in the nick of time. I’ve been going crazy, sir, praying that I could be a part of the recovery.”

Karl Woodward smiled and put his big arm on the young man. “You will, lad, you will. But not in this business today. I simply have no role for you in this.”

“But, sir! We were assigned to this very village. We were the advance team for right here, and I’ve been living here, with and among these people, for weeks now. I know the land and who’s who. For example, I know that this little man’s no member of this village. I’ve never seen him before.”

Woodward’s busy eyebrows went up. “Indeed! Is that so? Hmm… What about this crindin pasture?”

“It’s fairly flat, that’s true, but if there’s any caves underneath they have to be pretty deep. Crindins alone can weigh over eight hundred kilos and when they’re done for the night they pretty well wander over that area. Most of this is soft limestone, but that area was picked as the pasture because it’s more like a granite extrusion or table. If he takes you there, they won’t be popping up out of the ground.”

Cromwell and Woodward exchanged glances. “Maybe we should take him, Karl,” the security chief said.

“Could be. Can’t hurt. All right, son. Not even Tom here can watch me, that weasel, and all our backs at the same time. Keep your pistol armed and in your robe sleeve pocket, and keep it aimed at our shifty little friend in there. Got that?”

“Yes sir! Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me, son, until it’s over,” Woodward cautioned him. “Usually, when you face down the devil, it hurts like hell even when you win.”

Cromwell looked at the old man and sighed. “I wish you weren’t going at all. I know how these kind of people think. Take out the head and they’ll be able to take over the body.”

“ Our body was hung on a tree twenty-two hundred years ago and He screwed ’em up good by coming back,” the Doctor responded firmly. “If I don’t walk out there, where’s my demonstration of faith?”

“But only one person came back from the dead,” Cromwell noted. “And I don’t think there’s anything in the promises that an exception will be made for you or me.”

Karl Woodward smiled. “If I die, I’ll just find out the answers to all my questions and the counters to all my doubts and fears that much sooner. I’ve already lived seven times the length He did; half of me is regenerated or regrown, the other half should be. But I didn’t found this ministry. I came along when Doctor Chernyn was called to the Lord. And if God needs somebody else to carry on after me, He’ll provide him. No, Tom. You don’t run from the devil; that’s playing his game. If I never taught anybody anything else I sure should have emphasized that . You go out, face him nose to nose, and when he’s not looking you twist his balls.” He reached down, put on a floppy old hat, then searched around and found a cigar.

“I’ve stayed off these since they regrew half my heart,” he said nostalgically, “but I’ve kept ’em fresh. Now’s as good a time as any to have one.” He fumbled in a drawer, found an old hand-carved container and from it took out a battered old cigar lighter. He lit the cigar, puffed on it to make it catch full, and leaned back, his expression almost as if he were witnessing the Second Coming. Then he suddenly bounded into action.

“All right, people! Go get that little snake and let’s go spit at the devil!”

Cromwell’s armor was an intimidating sight, and the malleable “shell” that formed around him and protected him also could take on some qualities at his very thoughts. It was shining now in the sun, gleaming silver, and it was impressive.

John Robey had on the crimson robe of a security officer. He liked the look, even though he was, of course, as vulnerable as ever in the thing. It took years to learn how to mentally merge with those combat suits, and probably many more to learn how to use them properly. He would have liked its protection, but not unless, like Cromwell, it was second nature and second skin. Instead, he watched Doc Woodward, and he was impressed. He’d never seen the old man so up, so seemingly confident and almost eager for some kind of action. He was taking this whole thing seriously, but, somehow, you got the feeling that the old boy was enjoying this, at least on some level.

As Ziggee led them up towards the village and then to the left of the great barn, Cromwell was already in full sensor mode and on a scrambled tactical frequency he was certain nobody but his people could pick up.

“Top floor barn, facing the pasture,” Cromwell ordered. “I think it’s a good spot for a sniper.”

“What shall I do if he’s up there, sir?” Alpha’s voice responded.

“Oh, terminate anybody who has a weapon. If they have any gear, though, try and keep that intact. Keep it quiet.”

They were in the pasture now, and Ziggee was looking around as if searching for some kind of marker. Either that, Robey thought, or he was afraid of stepping in crindin dung. It didn’t smell all that bad out here, but there was a lot of it.

Woodward sensed that the little weasel wasn’t too sure of himself. The Doctor glanced at his watch and noted that it was pretty much on the nose when the meeting was supposed to take place.

“Apostles, this is Archangel,” came a general frequency call to all of them. “I’ve picked up activity about twenty meters to your right. I’m also reading hostile powered weapons in the barn and in the last house facing the pasture.”

“Got it,” Alpha responded. “Delta and I will take the barn, Gamma the house, Epsilon will hold between as backup. Move!”

Ziggee finally stopped in the middle of the field and scratched his head, then turned back to the trio. “Honest, sir, this is about the place. They was supposed to put a marker here, but I don’t see it.”

“I hate it when demons aren’t punctual,” the Doctor growled, “but we’ll wait a little bit. Who knows? There may be surprises in store.”

Almost on cue there was the curious and unique sound of an energy pistol firing on full power, and suddenly from the small lift door at the top of the barn something pitched forward and fell the nearly fourteen meters to the ground.

“One down,” Alpha reported. “One running like all the demons of Hell was chasing him. Shall we pursue?”

“Negative. Anybody who runs like that doesn’t need encouragement. You two stay up there and cover us instead. Epsilon move to back up the house entry.”

Since Cromwell was in his suit and on a high security frequency, he alone could speak back and forth without anyone else hearing. On the other hand, Ziggee was beginning to look back at the body that seemed to be still smouldering on the ground and the little man didn’t look too good at all.

A second set of three sharp electronic blasts came from the house. Within seconds, it seemed to catch fire, with smoke coming from the small back window.

“Two more down,” Epsilon reported. “I don’t think we can put this thing out on our own, though.”