The War in Heaven (54 page)

Nikola Tesla stepped up to the telesphere. “Is there any way that you could get me back there with you? Hell is an interesting place to visit, but, well, you know.”

“Yes, I can imagine,” said Johann. “Right now, the Father has decreed that all travel between Heaven and Hell is to be totally suspended. Even on Earth, the spirits of the dead are remaining in the tomb. They will not rise until the rapture or the Day of Judgment. I do not know when that will be.
The Father will not tell any of us. David and I are preparing to build the Spirit Two. Perhaps, at some time, God will allow us to fly to Hell and bring you back. Still it may take some time to construct it. After all, I don’t have Heaven’s greatest inventor here to help me.”

Nikola looked at David from the telesphere. “Oh, I think you do.”

“And what of your war in Heaven?” asked Abaddon, “What is the latest news?”

“We are in control of all of the planes of Heaven,” announced Michael, stepping up to the telesphere. “There remain a few stragglers of Satan’s ill-fated campaign hiding within some of the more remote regions, but we will root them out in time. The war is over. The trials of the demons are scheduled to begin in only a few days, while those of the angels are likely to begin some time in the next year or so. We have been assured that we have nothing at all to fear. David and Johann have both been invited to act as jurors in some of the early trials. Eventually, all of the saints will have the opportunity to participate in the process.”

“I sure wish that we could be judging old slewfoot along with them,” noted David. “He is the one we really should be putting on trial.”

“I shall not argue that point,” replied Abaddon. “Has there been any decision about the demons still here in Hell or my people here in Refuge? Will they be judged during this coming trial?”

“There is no word on that as yet,” replied Johann, “though I will bring the issue up when I serve. I will fight for your right to be heard…to be acquitted. You have a lot of friends in this hall, Abaddon. Be assured that we will all do whatever we can on your behalf.”

“And what of us?” asked Tom, who stood at Abaddon’s side, along with Bedillia. “Is there any word as to what is to become of us?”

“Your case isn’t going to be heard by our tribunal,” said Johann. “That will be an issue addressed at the great White Throne Judgment. That is still
over a thousand years away. I’m afraid that, for the moment, your case is in limbo. I’m sorry. I wish I could offer you more hopeful news.”

“Maybe, it is just as well,” replied Bedillia. “Perhaps it will take a thousand years of penitence in Hell to prove our worth. A thousand years to make up for sixty or seventy wasted years on Earth. Maybe even that won’t be enough, but I for one, intend to try.”

There seemed to be a general agreement among the other humans standing in the crowded audience chamber in Refuge. They had a thousand years. It was nothing compared to eternity. Perhaps they could do something useful with it. After all, if all were to be judged guilty at the White Throne Judgment, why have a judgment in the first place? They would live with that hope in mind.

“It is my understanding that Satan did extensive damage to the holy city of Zion during your war,” said Abaddon. “It sounds like you are going to be rebuilding for some time to come.”

The smiles that followed his comment were, at first, puzzling.

“The city has already been restored,” replied Johann. “With a wave of the Father’s mighty hand, all was restored to what was. Even my mansion and laboratory were restored to their former nature. Praise be unto the Father.”

That comment elicited a round of amens from both sides of the telesphere.

“Already things are returning to normal,” noted David. “No, it is even better than normal. You never know what you have until it is taken away. The children of God have gained a new maturity through it all. We are ready to put away childish things and get on with developing our own character. We are ready to stop playing around and start being more like Christ. We have a destiny to fulfill. It’s time to get to it.”

As their conference came to an end, it was obvious that, at least for the immediate future, their only contact with each other would be through
the telesphere. Both David and Nikola had ideas for the design of a matter transporter—a device not dissimilar in concept from the telesphere. Such a device would allow them to transport small items back and forth between Kepler’s lab and Refuge. Refuge currently depended heavily on power spheres that could only be manufactured in Heaven. Establishing a new way to send them to Refuge was a high priority. Between their responsibilities at the tribunal and the lab, David and Johann had their work cut out for them.

A
mentally tired Abaddon, Bedillia, Nikola, and Lenar stepped from the large tan-colored tent on the windswept Plains of Sardon after 11 straight hours with their counterparts in the demonic camp. The large red sun, the star called Kordor, sat upon the hazy horizon a third hidden by the featureless plains. When they had begun the meeting, the entire sphere had been above the horizon.

“This is one of the very few places in Hell that still experiences day and night,” noted Cordon stepping from the tent behind them. “Perhaps, together, we can change all of that, get Hell spinning more rapidly, allow this whole world to know day and night.”

“Perhaps,” said Abaddon, smiling slightly.

“I don’t wish you to become discouraged by the seeming lack of progress we had today,” said Cordon. “We will come to an accord, I am certain of it.”

“At least we are talking,” said Bedillia. “That is more than we were doing a month ago.”

“Exactly,” said Cordon. “We can resume the talks two days hence. Kordor will have then set completely. You will be surprised how much cooler it will be.”

No more was said between the two parties. The four moved toward their gate out point.

“Not a promising start,” noted Bedillia. “I for one am quite disappointed. I thought that now with Cordon in command things would have gone better.”

“I really didn’t know what to expect,” admitted Abaddon, “therefore I was not disappointed by the results.”

“We did get a nonaggression agreement with him,” said Lenar, who wanted to accentuate the positive aspects of the meeting, such as they were.

“But we made no progress on the issue of repentant humans released by my children from their torments,” argued Abaddon, who seemed less optimistic than Lenar. “We are to sit idly by while his minions round them up and send them back to their torments. These people need to be with us. Then he expects me to call off my children, to instruct them to feed only on the unrepentant humans of Hell. He expects us to give him so much, while he offers nothing in return but a promise not to attack.”

Nikola remained silent. Cordon had saved his life—no two ways about it. Yet, he too seemed disappointed with the day’s results, or lack thereof. To him one thing was certain, Hell had become a far more unstable place. It was ripe for revolt. Cordon couldn’t control so many humans with his limited resources. Why was he being so stubborn? They had come to an agreement on exploring ways to moderate the environment of their world. That, at least, was a positive outcome. Still, he was troubled. He couldn’t see a pathway to a more just and yet workable realm. It was a long road that lay ahead, and like it or not, he would be stuck here for a long time.

At the tent, Cordon and Rolf watched as the four Refuge delegates gated out. Cordon glanced back at the other two demonic delegates. He practically had to threaten them to keep them from being openly hostile to their guests, so great was their dislike of humans. He knew that he wasn’t going to change their attitudes.

“That could have gone better,” noted Rolf.

“Yes, that could have gone better,” echoed Cordon. “Our people will never accept the humans as equals, even if their very existence depends upon it.”

“And it does,” interjected Rolf.

“Probably,” said Cordon, turning toward the setting orb in the west. “The master was able to bend our people to his will through a combination of fear and appealing to their desire for vengeance. I doubt that I can do that. If I give these humans much more than I already have, I may very well have a revolt on my hands.”

“And if you don’t?” asked Rolf.

Cordon shook his head. “If I don’t, I’ll have a revolt on my hands, one of a human nature.”

“So, what is to be done?” asked Rolf.

“I was hoping that you could tell me,” said Cordon.

“You are the master of Hell,” said Rolf, a very slight smile on his face.

“Yes, that is the problem,” noted Cordon.

Tim Monroe was overjoyed when he discovered that Cindy had given birth to three young ones. They looked like miniature versions of their parents. Goliath marched proudly back and forth around his new brood.

Tim was hesitant to approach at first, but quickly discovered that Goliath and Cindy didn’t mind in the least. Tim was their friend; they trusted him. Goliath went out frequently during the next few days, bringing back small pieces of stringy red flesh with him. Tim wasn’t so sure that he wanted to know its source.

Goliath’s and Cindy’s children ate voraciously, and grew at a startling rate. Within three days, they were over half the size of their parents. Unlike human babies, they were not helpless, at least not for long. Within a few hours of their birth, they were moving about quite well on their own. They learned quickly, and they took a liking to Tim right away. He played with them for hours on end. They added a new dimension to his life here.

More marvelous still was the arrival of more of the tiny creatures. His world was becoming ever more populated, and he didn’t mind a bit. Every one of his guests seemed happy to share the cavern with their human host. They all liked to be talked to, and when he was in a talking mood, they all gathered around to listen. Tim had a name for each and every one of them.

Within two weeks of the birth of Cindy’s children, the population of his little community passed 50, and the number was increasing daily, as more continued to join him or were born right there in the caves.

Tim knew only too well what these creatures were capable of, yet he was not afraid. Tim, the protector of one, had become Tim the protected by many. Tim was getting ideas. What could an army of these wonderful creatures do? One day he might well find out. Until then, he would bask in their friendship and love, giving back what was given to him. Perhaps with the right leadership, they might reshape the face of Hell. He would endeavor to be that leader. Until then, he would bide his time.

“Now keep it simple,” said Clarence Booth, the U.S. ambassador’s administrative liaison, as Sam Florence prepared to enter the chambers of the UN Security Council. “These aren’t scientists, you know; they are career diplomats. But don’t talk down to them either. They are highly educated people. As the discoverer of Comet Florence, it was deemed appropriate that you give this presentation rather than someone from the NSF.”

“I appreciate the opportunity, Mr. Booth,” said Sam, looking through his note cards one last time. “I’ve given talks to rooms full of very picky planetary scientists. I’m sure this crowd will be no rougher on me.”