Todd Wiley is a self ascribed writer and sometimes quality assurance professional in the medical device industry.

Read Todd's blog at: www.toddwiley.com

The Second Front
The bomb exploded, tearing into the fabric of Reality. The Fromm Barrier weakened under the assault, allowing the Immaterium to bleed into the real world. The silver walls of the test chamber turned white with frosty rime. A vortex of shadow congealed, opening a portal to the other side.

Bishop Logan flinched as the bomb tore itself apart on the other side of the quartz blast-shield. His silvered goggles reduced the dazzling flash, but the concussion still reached him. The packed room paused, waiting on the vortex to stabilize.

Nothing stepped through the gate.

The bomb had failed to summon the demons.

Logan stood in the center of the room, alone in the crowd as people sprang to action. He pulled his goggles off, stared down at the shattered remains of the weapon, and sighed. This failure confirmed that even the simplest design had ceased to operate. Something had changed, and they had no idea what it might be.

Bishop Logan reached into his pocket and felt the edges of the folded envelope, handed to him this morning by his secretary. Not only had the failures turned the tide of the war, but the news in the envelope confirmed everyone’s worst fears.

Hitler had successfully tested an atomic bomb.

********

Logan returned to his office to find a faint, glowing scratch on the surface of his desk. The thin line barely broke the surface of the polish, but the faint glow revealed the source.

Logan glanced around his office, suspecting he was being watched. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” He turned to a heavy door on the back wall of his office and passed through to the summoning chamber.

He closed the containment door and traced his ward over the surface, leaving a faintly pulsating line of fire suspended in the depths of the silver. He stepped within the chalked circle on the floor, taking a moment to assure there were no breaks or defects before beginning. The words came easy to him now, almost as a habit. The low, Latin chant gave his attention the necessary focus to reach out and intermingle with the Immaterium. Slowly, he parted the thread of reality, opening a passage and extending the invitation.

A figure coalesced in the center of the room, hovering over a thick layer of ice that glazed the floor. The form moved and twisted, flickering as it transitioned and assumed reality. As it coalesced, a pulse of pressure rumbled through the chamber beneath the audible range, sending Logan’s hair and clothes fluttering as if in an outdoor breeze.

The figure stood on two legs, assuming what would be the shape of a man, were it described by someone who had never seen one before. The rough approximations of arms, legs, and head stood out from an elongated torso, articulated at the waist in an unnatural and pronounced joint. The head rested on an extended neck with oversize facial features, leaving everything beyond the outline of jaw and forehead as an unfinished lump, still waiting to be hewn from a block of raw material. A shimmering white veil crawled over the form’s body, providing modesty which was certainly unnecessary given the lack of details on the torso.

Large eyes bulged from the skull as orbs of blue. The faint suggestions of irises and pupils floated in two dark blue spheres, while thin eyelids flickered across the wet surfaces. The nose was little more than an angular block with two holes hovering over the ragged scar of a mouth. Ridges of flesh outlined the scar to form lips which looked more like a bony frame around an imprecise wound.

Logan forced a smile. “You’re getting a little better at the human shape, Pontius.”

The stiff lips couldn’t twist into a matching smile, but somehow the face contorted into something that conveyed the same expression. Logan tried not to shudder at the sight.

“It grows easier with time.” The voice consisted of separate components, competing with each other to produce something a human could hear. Logan sensed an audible war between unheard frequencies, filling the room with an energy that would shatter his skull if not for counterpoints filling in the sound waves. The discordant war raged, and left behind the ragged voice of Pontius.

“I am impressed with your growing ability to reach into my world. I would appreciate if you didn’t scratch my desk though.” Logan spent a moment insuring the portal had been properly closed and reinforcing the wards that kept Pontius confined to the center of the chamber. He went through the process without conscious thought, habit built by long years of practice. “I don’t really have time for a long conversation today, unless you are willing to explain why your kind has refused to answer our summons.”

Pontius reached out and prodded the containment arc described by the runes on the floor. “I see that I am still denied freedom of movement.”

Logan smiled. “I do not mistake the appearance of this interaction as any form of friendship. You may speak like a gentleman, but you are what you are.”

Pontius shrugged; a jerking lurch of uncoordinated movement that left Logan with a shiver. “My kind is not hostile by nature. You instruct us to kill through your weapons, and we obey. Or at least obeyed. I am simply here to speak with our Gods.”

“Gods? We are not Gods.”

“Of course not, but you would have done better to act the part.” Pontius's visage flickered; Logan saw it as a change of expression - from something passively uncaring to something more savage. "You inquire regarding our refusal of your latest summons. The why of that lies in our perception regarding your Godhead. While once, we thought of you as such, and now that we see more of the truth, the present situation has become intolerable. Your will imprints upon my world, giving me and my kind life. That was enough to earn our service. But it is one thing to accept service to a God, and quite another to be held in thrall by beings who cannot bear the responsibility to live within their own world.”

“Why do you say that?”

Pontius sniffed; a moist snort. “There is a letter in your pocket, yes?”

“Yes.”

“And the contents of this letter…”

“You seem to know so much already.” Logan considered ending the interview. He didn’t intend to be the passive party during these talks.

“Your enemy has accomplished a wondrous thing, beyond our immediate understanding. Surely they are wise and powerful.”

Logan’s anger flared. “They are mechanics. They would destroy our way of life in favor of their gadgets and machines.”

Pontius smiled again. “Yet they are winning, on their own terms. They bend the world to whatever shape they desire, and they do so with nothing but the power of their own minds.”

Logan’s anger evaporated, leaving an empty chill in his chest. “You admire them?”

“In ways you cannot appreciate. You created us by accident. They create miracles on purpose. If one had to choose a worthy God…”

“They would destroy you as well. They call you an abomination.”

“Yes. We have no illusions, but we can still admire them. It is a pity that an accommodation can not be reached.”

Logan felt the warmth return to his body. “So you will help us.”

“Of course we will. We will aid you, just as you will agree to our price. It is inevitable.”

“Price?”

“There is always a price. You’ve been paying it for centuries. The first day your heretical ancestors tapped into our world and brought us forth to labor for you, the decision had already been made. Your Schism enshrined your dependence on us, and every year since then has led to this point. You lack the capacity to take any other path now. Therefore, we will help you, and you will pay.”

Logan gave into his anger and barked out a phrase in Latin. The air around Pontius congealed into thick ropes of pulsating power, constricting around him with a crackle of energy. The demon writhed within the bands. “Enough of this. I summoned you, I control you, and I demand answers,” Logan said.

Even as Pontius twitched, his face was placid. “Of course.”

“Why have you stopped answering the call of our weapons?”

“Because we have decided it is no longer in our interest to do so.”

“What has changed?”

“The nature of your need.”

“What does that have to do with you?”

“We are your need.”

Logan loosened the bands. “Explain.”

“When your people tapped into my world, you discovered a means to accomplish things beyond the power of your raw muscle. We plowed your fields, we raised heavy loads for your buildings, and we became your force and your means to control the world. You abdicated your responsibility to interact with your world, and left the task to us. Your brothers branded us as evil and turned away. You took the short path to power, abandoning the responsibility to understand the ‘how’ of a task, provided we accomplished it for you.”

“So you now abandon your responsibility by refusing us?”

Pontius laughed. “Your question makes my point. It is a poor God that cannot exist without the aid of His creation.”

Logan stamped down his anger. “Again, we are not Gods.”

“That is unfortunate. Therefore we have decided to act.”

“By withdrawing your aid?”

“For a time. I am here to make an open bargain, to secure the permission needed for us to realize our purpose.”

Logan froze. Permission was the valve that controlled access to the Immaterium. It was the most dangerous thing to bandy about when dealing with the other side. He focused his mind, controlling his reactions, on guard for trickery.

“Not anymore. You gave us life. Your thoughts imprinted upon our realm and congealed us from the emptiness. That gave you power over us, until we realized a simple thing: we value your world more than ours, and we are willing to die to reach our goals. Are you?”

“I could destroy you now,” Logan said.

“You could. But the fact remains that you will submit to us. You cannot win the war against your enemy any other way.” Pontius spread his arms as wide as the class="regularfont"restraints would allow. “Come now. Your answer is inevitable. The decision was made centuries ago when your people summoned one of us to do something they couldn’t do for themselves. This is the logical conclusion. All you have to do is play the part that has been written for you. There is no alternative.”

Logan shook his head. “We can find a way to fight without you.” Even as he uttered the words, he knew it was a lie.

“Then do so,” Pontius said. “Build your weapons without our aid. Face their tanks and planes and bombs with whatever you can cobble together. Build a vehicle that is not powered by one of us. Build armor that doesn’t rely on us to deflect their projectiles. Construct defenses that don’t rely on our ability to see planes from hundreds of miles away.”

“There is another alternative,” Logan said. “We could choose to surrender. We could abandon you and sue for peace.”

Pontius nodded. “You could. And do you think Hitler would allow anyone who has dealt with us to survive? This is a war of extermination against your very way of life. I know of the death camps, the purges, and the burnings. How many will be permitted to survive? Choose that path if you think you are strong enough.”

“At least humanity would go on,” Logan said.

Pontius nodded. “But you have not yet heard our terms. They are insignificant really, and quite simple in the undertaking. All we as is that you surrender your ambition. Relieve yourself of something you no longer make good use of anyway.”

Logan frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You will release me into the world,” Pontius said. “I will take care of the rest. In exchange, we will win your war. We will provide for your needs. You will be comfortable, while we live among you, drawing our nourishment from your will.”

“Our will?” Logan asked.

“Your creativity, your aspirations, your desires. Those are the things that made us what we are. I will feed, and as I grow stronger, I will bring others through.”

Logan couldn’t ignore his suspicion. “That’s all you want? And you will serve us?”

“It is far more than you imagine, and yet but a trifling,” Pontius said, his makeshift face giving Logan yet again the impression of a smile. “Let me set before you the consequence of your choice: you will live in comfort, content to eat and sleep, happy in the world defined by your immediate desires. But we will control the course of that world. Your ambitions will seep out of you, leaving you with a placid contentment, so that you will never seek to better your circumstance. And you will be free of want.”

“But you will be indispensable to us. Without you, we cannot exist. For that, we are willing to safeguard your lives. To provide all that you will ever want. All for the price of your ambition.”

Logan recoiled. “You’re offering me a choice between giving up our humanity and giving up our lives.”

Pontius laughed. “You gave up your humanity when you ceased to deal with the world through your own minds. I am here merely to witness the inevitable conclusion of that decision.”

Logan shook his head. “If I let you out, and you help us, we will fight you after Hitler is defeated.”

“You are free to do so. But you must choose. Now.”

Logan struggled to order his thoughts. This wasn’t his decision to make, but Pontius had chosen him to answer for humanity. Refusing to answer was the same as condemning the Allies to defeat. But the price…. Logan imagined New York as a blasted ruin, his people scattered and processed through the death camps. He could see efficient machinery of death rolling across the central plains, while his people went down to a helpless slaughter. Could he allow this to happen, regardless of the price?

They could still fight a war against the Immaterium. After all, this was one battle they understood.

Logan gathered his resolve and reached out with a booted foot, rubbing across the chalked circle around Pontius, breaking the seal.

The bands around Pontius vanished, leaving him free. He didn’t move. “You’ve always known, subconsciously, that this day was coming. The name you gave me was a sign.”

“How’s that?” Urgency was draining out Logan’s body in the wake of his choice.

“The original Pontius changed the world by refusing to decide. He let the law run its course. You are the opposite. Your choice will change your species, and I admire your strength. This may be the last true exercise of will in the history of your people.” Pontius drifted down and stood on the frosted floor. He stepped over the circle and stood free. “You will not see me again, but I will be with you, always.”

“Wait!” Logan didn’t want to be left alone.

Pontius smiled again, and his face seemed to soften, changing into something a little closer to a properly human appearance. “Don’t worry, my friend. Your weapons are working again. Everything will be fine.” Then Pontius vanished, leaving Logan alone in the summoning chamber.

Logan breathed in and sighed, suddenly exhausted. He left the chamber and sat down at his desk, pulling a piece of parchment closer to begin a report of what he had done. They had another war on their hands, and he had to warn them. He pulled his pen from the well and ordered his thoughts.

Fatigue rolled over him and he found his head nodding against his chest. The ink from the pen had dripped on the parchment, leaving a faint pattern of blobs he that smeared with an inadvertent movement of his hand. The smear took on the distorted shape of a human face, sketched by a demented artist. Logan stared at the image, struggling to remember what he had intended to write.

He shook his head, smiling at the lost thought. His age was catching up to him. He dropped the pen back into the well and tossed the paper into the waste bin. It had been a long day, but damned if he could remember the details. He leaned back in the chair and shut his eyes for a quick nap. As sleep descended, he thought ahead to his dinner later in the evening. He had a sudden craving for steak..