Pierce oversaw the retrofitting of the Enclave from the command center. He had found a cot to sleep in. He kept busy because he wasn’t ready to deal with—well, he wasn’t ready. Any time he even brushed against what he wasn’t ready for sent him scurrying away. He had to deal with it. He just couldn’t right now. Not again. If he had been there with Abacus… No. He couldn’t go there. Not yet. And he had a duty to June and her Sisters. So he threw himself into the work.

They had cannibalized everything they could from the engineering station. He and Archie had worked twenty-hour cycles with four-hour breaks to get everything done, reworking every system—power relays, life-support, propulsion, main weapons, everything. Pierce handled reprogramming systems, Archie ran the drones and bots, and they rewired the asteroid into something the Enclave never dreamed it could be.

At first, both the Matriarch and June protested when he proposed his plan.

“But Pierce, this is an asteroid. It’s not meant to do more than keep us alive and protected,” June had protested during the first meeting. “What you’re suggesting might be possible, but it’s way too crazy!” “Pierce, my first duty is to protect my daughters. Even if you can assure me of that, what you propose is risky at best. I don’t want to see you putting yourself at such a needless risk,” the Matriarch said with a deep frown creasing her austere face.

Pierce let June and the Matriarch talk before he said anything.

“Ladies,” he said, taking their hands in his, startling them both. “I know. My first stop will be to get you all off this asteroid. After that, this is something Archie and I have to do. Alone.” He pleaded with his eyes for them to see his side. He didn’t want to fight with them.

At last, they relented.

Now, things were finally coming together.

“Archie?”

“Four more systems to lock down and we can make the first attempt.”

“I’ll make the announcement now.”

Pierce left his office and walked to the communications center. He nodded to the Sister on watch and sat down at the station she had prepared for him.

“This is Pierce,” he said without formalities. “As you all know, Archie and I hatched a plan. We’re ready. As soon as Archie gives the go-ahead, we’ll make our first fold. If all goes well, we’ll be dropping you all off in orbit around Amorium. Demeter and Vesta have been fully apprised and will help you all.” He paused, finding his throat felt thick. “Thank you,” he croaked out. “Thank you for your kindness and for giving me your home.” Pierce couldn’t go on for a minute. “I hope somehow, some way I can start to pay you all back.” He gave a shuddering sigh. “God be with each one of us.”

Pierce pushed away from the station, his heart and soul heavy and his body aching. He hurt worse than anything Legion had done to him at Rho. No time to wallow now. He pulled himself upright and walked to the area where Lieutenant Jackobson, Braddock, Poundstock, Shaw, Hopwood, and Templar Basil had taken over. They were the last surviving members of the Coalition contingent.

While the others remained seated, the lieutenant stood when Pierce entered the room. The two men faced each other for a minute, neither one speaking. Jackobson nodded and put out his hand. “Pierce.”

“Lieutenant,” Pierce responded as they shook.

“How did you convince the Matriarch to hand her world over to you?” Braddock asked.

“It wasn’t easy,” Pierce admitted. “If it wasn’t for Demeter and Vesta working with Abbot Miller, I couldn’t have promised them anything.” He sighed. “I think she wanted to start over somewhere new, too, without being haunted at every turn.” He took in the room. The men there were solemn in spirit and tone. “How are you all holding up?”

“Us?” Jackobson snorted. “Well, we’re currently unattached. HQ is too busy running a minor skirmish to reassign us right now.”

“Which means we’re hitting the bars and getting drunk!” shouted Shaw.

“Until someone tells us otherwise, we’re running a tab on Commander Lars’s account!” called out Hopwood. “Captain LeCroix’s last orders!”

Everyone cheered and Pierce found himself laughing.

After he collected himself, Pierce waved a hand for their attention. “We’re almost ready for the first test.”

“We’ll be in the acceleration couches before then,” Jackobson assured him. “And, Pierce? Despite everything, it’s been a pleasure serving with you.” He snapped a salute. The rest of the men stood and threw a salute as well. “To the Borderland Bandit!”

“To the Bandit!” they all cheered.

Pierce returned the salute then left without a word, no longer trusting his voice. Unsteadily, he made it back to the command center. There, a knot of Sisters, Becky in the lead, waited for him.

“We just wanted—” Becky started before she burst into tears and flung herself into his arms.

“What we wanted to say, Pierce, was thank you,” June said as she pushed through the small crowd. She was smiling through her own tears, struggling to say what she was feeling. “You came through when I had thought it wasn’t never going to get better. Again. I… well, I…”

Pierce gently peeled off Becky to hug June. “This isn’t good-bye.” Pierce said fiercely. “Not forever, at least.”

“I know,” June said simply.

“Well, here’s take two!” Becky said lightly, wiping tears out of her eyes. “All the Junones have decided to become Catholics. Abbot Miller has already reached out through Demeter to Archie and we’re signed up to be catechumens when we get there.” She smiled and blushed at the same time.

Pierce scooped her into his arms and kissed her good and long. They ignored the twittering of the others.

“I, uh, hehe, um. Yes.” Becky adjusted her jumpsuit and hair.

“What she said was we hope to be baptized for Easter,” June said with smiling eyes. She pecked Pierce on the cheek.

“That’s amazing! I’m so happy for all of you!” Pierce said sincerely.

“I think we can get a few more to join, too.”

“I don’t doubt you will, June.”

They all stood around in silence, no one wanting to break up this gathering first.

“Chop chop!” Archie said as she burst into the corridor. “Twenty minutes! Everyone, get strapped in!”

With laughter and not more than a few tears, the girls took off at a run to their acceleration couches. Becky cast a look back at Pierce before running off with the others.

Pierce followed Archie back to the command center where the Matriarch waited. She and Pierce were riding things out here with Archie.

“I am sure you are aware of this,” the Matriarch began dryly. “We’ve spent generations changing our behavior, our genes, how we structure our society, removing the need for anything but our way of life.” She drew a sharp breath through her nose.

“And you broke it. Did you know some of the girls—and Matrons—have been flirting, flirting! with the men? Like, like—“ she floundered to find the words.

“Humans?” Archie offered.

“Yes!” The Matriarch threw up her hands in disgust and despair. “We aren’t!”

Pierce offered her his arm. Sighing, she took it, and the two of them walked to where the acceleration couches were bolted to the metal flooring, Archie following along. No one said a word until Pierce had finished helping the Matriarch strap in.

“You know, Matriarch, if your system crumbled this quickly, and the girls started acting like, well, girls, maybe it wasn’t built on anything solid to begin with? But for what it’s worth, I am sorry we crashed into all this,” Pierce waved his hand around, “and upset everything. I know how that feels.” Over and over again lately, he thought, but didn’t say out loud. Abacus… no, he wasn’t ready yet, his emotions still too raw.

The Matriarch hurmpfed but offered nothing in rebuttal.

Archie sat in a chair she designed for this. Her cybernetic body went still as she focused her attention across the various systems of the asteroid.

“We are in the final stages of the pre-countdown now,” Archie announced over the speakers.

Pierce wished he could help more but, at this point, the entire show was Archie’s.

“We’re counting on you, sis,” Pierce said, earnestly.

“All systems are green,” Archie announced.

Thank you, Pierce. I won’t let us down!

“All stations reporting personnel secured,” Archie continued.

There was a deep rumbling that everyone could feel as the retrofitted systems reached peak output.

“Three, two, one. Fold.”

The field generated was big. There was a tearing and shattering of space. The lights flickered inside the Enclave, then turned off to conserve power, leaving vast stretches in the dark, and the rest bathed in blue emergency lights. The grav generators changed their output to drive the rock into the jump. The ride was horrible, the worst Pierce had ever experienced. Then they were done.

“Successful test jump! We moved one hundred miles!” Archie said excitedly.

Pierce cheered hoarsely. He hoped everyone else was okay.

“Everything important is still green, if just. Next jump in three, two, one…. Fold.”

Admiral Moore hadn’t slept for what felt like days. He couldn’t do more than toss fitfully when he tried. Legion’s broadcast sat like a lump of lead in his gut.

Battered, bruised, and bloodied, the Coalition Navy had slowly crushed Legion’s forces. Mendelson and the AIs out-maneuvered them while the Fleets out-fought them. If just barely, it was still enough. He couldn’t worry about what would happen next, especially back home. There was more than enough to worry about here and now. He should be more elated with their successes, despite the costs. And yet, there was something in the air, something foreboding.

From his command chair on the bustling bridge, Moore resisted the urge to ask about the fleet’s status again. His people were already busy enough as it was. An aide floated up with a coffee. He thanked him and turned his attention back to the holotank showing the ship’s positions. Battles surged and flared in a complicated dance. Relentlessly, the Fleets drove deeper toward Legion’s monstrous flagship.

And then.

All the alarms went off at once.

“Sir, multiple reports of gravity wells! Dozen, no, four dozen, no, we’re passing the hundreds mark!”

Like a fever breaking, Moore suddenly felt a weight lifted. Here was what he was waiting for, what the entire command staff was waiting for. Legion’s next big move. They finally sprang the trap. Let’s see if Mendelson’s plan would be effective against Legion.

“Execute order Charlemagne,” Moore ordered calmly.

“Executing order Charlemagne!” his XO repeated.

The smaller fighters broke off combat and returned to the carriers. Those, in return, headed to the capital ships to nestle under them, like chicks returning to their mother hens. The Navy was pulling into itself. While that was happening, the massive capital ships from each fleet fired up their grav generators to push a shell out from their cores. Grav generators that had been scattered during the battle activated and started pulsing out waves. The interference patterns slammed into Legion’s gravity wells, causing dozens to collapse. More bloomed in response.

The holotanks showed bright red spots where the wells stabilized and those spots were multiplying at an alarming rate.

Lars surged out of the hangar, his data feeds lighting up like a Christmas tree. The gravity field didn’t do much against him, even as the readings climbed into the double digits. Had he been staffed with a human crew, they would have felt the effects, but he was inured against those forces now.

There. There was Legion’s capital ship.

The first round of wells opened and things poured out of them. Lars didn’t pay them attention unless they got in his way. His firepower made short work of the smaller craft, if he could call them that. More poured out of the wells, their numbers swelling and covering the space between him and Legion’s flagship.

So be it, Lars thought.

He aimed for one of Legion’s biggest ship nearest to him. Lars was going to dismantle Legion’s forces even he had to do it ship by ship until there was nothing left but that floating madhouse.

Legion threw everything they had at the Coalition. Across the vast expanses of space, they pulled in all their forces. Legion wanted to completely crush humanity’s pitiful force in an overwhelming display of pure power. They had led the Coalition into a trap, sacrificing their own resources to get them into position. Now, they’d see what Legion could do. They’d see, and despair. And this was just in space. Once the humans started to feel the pressure here, Legion would start their attacks on the planets. It had taken Legion a while to assemble everything, the Enemy’s protection had only served Legion to bring everything everywhere to bear on this system.

And their one thought was this: Despair, despair, and slaughter!

Hellish laughter rippled through Legion’s hosts.

“Can we do it?” Pierce asked Archie.

“Oh, yes. I’ve shut down all life support except here. We have enough power to make that jump. If we push everything into the red, we can make it a few hours.”

“Will we survive?” Templar Basil, the only other person who had stayed on the Enclave, asked. Archie flashed him a smile. “No guarantees. And it’s going to hurt.”

“Then let’s do it.”

Pierce nodded. He’d already said his goodbyes to the Sisters and Lieutenant Jackobson’s team. He tried to argue with the Templar, but the man was immovable.

“May God protect us fools.”

Three of the unimaginable beasts had pulled themselves out of the gravity wells. Second Fleet was engaged directly with one, their battleships and destroyers looking like toys in the face of the monster that the human mind couldn’t quite grasp. More monsters were starting to poke through, different this time, long thin mouths full of mountain sized teeth and endless gnawing hunger, slithered out from elsewhere to here.

Fires erupted across the cities as Legion’s cultists took to the streets, burning and killing anyone they found, smashing windows, wrecking anything in their path.

Sirens blared as the remaining citizens fled to the bunkers under dwindling police protection. Every bunker entrance was guarded by grim and hard-eyed teams of soldiers and priests.

Anyone wanting entry had to swear allegiance to the Almighty God and recite the Nicene Creed. Refusal—or even hesitation—resulted in being shot without further questions. The survivors shuddered and thanked God for His mercy that they were spared. No one protested. Everyone knew the stakes.

The people willingly marched away from their homes, away from everything they had known, and into the fortified bunkers with no more than faith in the Lord that survival was possible this way.

Richard Saunders ran his broadcasts around the clock. No one had any time to spare to shut him down. No one in the bunkers paid him any mind. He nattered away about “new beginnings” and “welcoming the visitors from beyond the stars.”

“Sir, Second Fleet has been lost. Remnants are linking up with the Third and Fifth now,” Bill reported. Grand Admiral Mendelson pinched his eyes shut for a second and blocked out the hum of the war room. He snapped them open.

“Status of the gravity shell?”

“Almost eighty-six percent deployed. The smaller wells have been collapsing at slower than predicted rates while the larger ones show no signs of being affected.”

Another thing gone wrong, the admiral thought to himself.

“Rescind order Charlemagne.”

“Aye, sir.”

While they did clear out many of the smaller wells and ships, it hadn’t worked as hoped. Time to change again.

“Issue order Belisarius,” Mendelson commanded.

Ed led the team defending the Crystal Palace’s inner court. He still didn’t understand how the Merchant Prince had convinced him to accept a commission in his private army, but there he was. The Jackals weren’t a threat now, but the Legion cultists were putting up a good fight.

“Didn’t think I’d end up here,” Ed said to Devon as they pored over the data feeds. The Prince had built a solid defensive structure. Ed and Devon were in the command center and issuing orders as the cultists threw themselves against the defenses. The automated systems had finally come online and were cutting down anything inside their firing arcs.

Ed knew someone at some point would figure a way around the automatic defenses. That was his first concern.

“Hey, Captain!” someone Ed didn’t know shouted at him.

“Ed’s just fine,” Ed said for the umpteenth time.

“Ed, then—all the bodies have been cleared from the field.”

Ed snapped his head up. “By the other side?”

“That’s right. We don’t have any casu—”

“Thank you. Dismissed, or whatever.” Ed shoved tablets to the side, revealing communications panel. He punched in a special code from memory and waited for the audio channel to be established.

“Justinian here.” The monk’s voice wasn’t as jovial as normal. There was a delay between sentences as the signal traveled from the moon to wherever the monk was. Ed worked with the delay.

“We have a problem.” Ed cut to the chase.

“Aside from Legion?”

“No, directly related. Cultists have been throwing themselves against our defenses.”

“I don’t see how that’s an issue—”

“They take the dead with them.” Ed cut off Father Justinian, knowing what he’d say before he started talking.

“Ah. And you think this is like Rho?”

“I’m betting it is.”

There was a long pause.

“Lars had suggested this would be a possibility. I’ll get the word out.”

“Thank you.”

“Other than that, how goes it?”

Ed gave a short, rueful laugh. “I’m a captain in the Merchant Prince’s private army.”

“Oh? Good for you!”

“Shut up, you old geezer. I can’t prove this, at all, but your lack of surprise is a tell that you wanted this to happen!”

Justinian laughed his booming laugh, sounding more like himself. “Ed, Ed, Ed, I didn’t know the details, but I knew something like this would happen. You are far too valuable to be a free agent.”

Ed grunted. He was beginning to understand Lars a little better.

“Thinking of the Commander, where is he?” Ed asked.

There was another long pause.

“Last I knew, he was fighting ship-to-ship with Legion.”

“Oh.” Ed didn’t know what else to say. The reports were trickling in. Ed read a few. It wasn’t looking good out there.

“Well, nothing we can do about it now.”

“No, I suppose not. Say, Father?”

“Yes?”

“Will you pray for us?”

Ed could hear the smile behind that bushy beard.

“Always, my dear Ed. Always!”

Joel Muetzel sobbed as he packed another brick of C-4 into his vest. The vest was full, but he wanted this to be catastrophic. Those demons! He was rejected by them and yet they still used him! They’d passed him around like community property, sometimes wearing him like an ill-fitting suit. They’d hurt him, over and over. And when he tried to do something, anything, he was tossed around like so much trash.

And whenever he moved to touch their pretty doll—oh, oh, the pain! He just wanted some fun with her, the last piece of flesh that still looked human. Still looked good enough to feel.

But no! Even that was denied him!

Jones chewed his cigar as he glared at Blaise. “No.”

“No?”

“No!”

The little Frenchman shrugged. “Ah, well. It was worth asking.”

“I ain’t running no charity out of my club!”

“Oh, mais oui, I wasn’t, ah, suggesting that. Besides, we have families to think about and while your decor has a certain… panache, let us say, it also isn’t well suited for the younger set.”

“Why do we even have to worry about them to start with? Ain’t there bunkers?”

“Oui, oui! But not all that wanted to go could, and not all of them could make it in time. There are remnants, many due to no fault of their own, some most assuredly are to blame, but all will be seeking a shelter in this storm.”

“I swear, Fournier, if you spout somethin’ like ‘Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head’ and expect me to just give in…” Jones growled.

Fournier held up his hands. “You misunderstand, mon ami! If you’d cool that hot head of yours for but a moment so I can explain!”

Melissa refreshed their drinks, hiding a smile as they argued. It might be the end of the world, but these two would keep going until the Last Trumpet sounded.

“Listen! We take over a hospital, you thick-headed—” Blaise started to explain.

“A hospital? Now I know you’re barking mad! How do we secure dozens of entrances? Anyone, and anything, could just waltz in!”

“A military hospital! There is one such a place no more than, ah, three miles away.”

“And what if there still guards there?”

“Ah! I use my credentials given to me by Lars himself! Strongly fortified! Stocked with supplies! Medical Expert Systems! Far better place to shelter than this… somewhat charming location.”

Jones sipped his drink as he thought. “Eh, why the hell—excuse me—not?”

“Indeed!”

They clinked glasses.

“But that still leaves him,” Jones pointed out. “The Bookkeeper.” He jerked a thumb back to where they had put the man in a small holding room, usually used for the more unruly guests who refused to leave and needed to be confined until the police arrived.

“Ah, yes, I hadn’t forgotten. Things of a more pressing nature surfaced.”

“There’s an understatement,” Jones grunted. “But I get it. My concerns aren’t worth your ti—”

“Non!” Fournier cut him off with a slash of his hand. “You have sided with us, we are on the same team! Never think for a second we—I— view you as, ah, side thought!”

Jones blinked, taken back a bit by the man’s vehemence and words.

“Alright, so what do you wanna do with him?”

Fournier toyed with his glass, swirling the dark liquid around.

“We make him talk!” he said decisively.

All over the system, pockets of gravity began to coalesce into deep wells. Holes opened between here and other places in the galaxy. Legion was drawing all their forces to this one system. They had considered dropping rods of active and spent radioactive material to eradicate all life, but, after much internal infernal debate, they decided to get up close and personal as they snuffed out the living. News rippled through the collective. One of their gravity wells had opened next to one of those horrid AIs. Legion raged and squashed the AI like an insect, only afterward regretting not torturing the AI before destroying it.

Hannibal is gone.

The news spread through the AIs as quick as light. No one stopped working. They’d mourn Abacus and Hannibal later.

If there was a later.

The Enclave asteroid emerged into normal space a hundred million miles from where the battle waged between the Coalition Navy and Legion. They diverted power back to the communications and sensor systems to get their bearings.

“Pierce, I just… it’s about Hannibal… he’s gone,” Archie said in a small voice.

Pierce clenched his jaw. The pain he’d been holding back only grew deeper.

“We’ll make Legion pay for him, too,” he said through gritted teeth.

The two worked to bring everything in alignment with their plan.

One-in-a-million didn’t begin to describe the odds. But Archie was sure her math was correct and Pierce trusted her implicitly.

They were going to smash the asteroid straight into Legion’s flagship at a fraction of the speed of light, as close to one-hundredth percent as they could get.

As long as the Coalition could keep Legion’s flagship fixed mostly in place, they’d be able to hit it.

“Now, we wait for the go-ahead,” Pierce said aloud to break the heavy silence of the empty asteroid. The Templar was getting their escape shuttle ready. They’d stay aboard the asteroid until the last possible minute before making their escape.

Pierce wanted to make Legion pay but he wasn’t suicidal.

Lars plowed through the mid-sized craft with ease. His new body was a wonder. Ransom had really pulled out all the stops when he built it. That itching had dulled for now. Didn’t matter—the odds of him surviving were low enough he didn’t care about minor inconveniences.

After sweeping clear anything near him, Lars set his sights on the nearest abomination crawling out from the darkest reaches of the galaxy.

While his sensors processed the data correctly, his human mind balked at trying to understand what he was seeing. Nothing he had experienced—not even the monstrosities at Rho—prepared him for what was before him. It shouldn’t exist. No living thing should be so vast. It shouldn’t even exist. He couldn’t focus on any one part, his mind slid over the dark gray and pallid white surface of the thing, trying to grasp something that made sense of it all. Lars couldn’t. He could feel his mind fraying at the madness before him, a creature born in a world not meant for humanity to experience, then pressed into Legion’s service—twisted, reworked, and broken into something which would inspire pity if it was possible.

These beasts had served Legion in their mad purge of humanity. They served now because there was nothing left but soulless obedience to the demons. The great beasts exuded this endless, unfathomable despair of such profundity it crushed all hope. It wasn’t just their size, it was the overwhelming wrongness which shattered resistance.

Lars fought against this otherworldly sorrow. He failed. His strength didn’t matter. His experiences as a battle-hardened warrior were meaningless. He was back on Rho, where all his failures were laid out in the open. All his mistakes, all the men he killed directly or by his decisions, all the people he had hurt, or failed, or slighted. Every time he had fallen short, every time he had sinned, it all came crashing into him. Darkness welled up, eating away his vision, his memories, his very soul. Despair washed over him, waves of anguish, endless as the seas, endless as the night.

With his mind flickering out, Lars desperately clung to the one thing that never had failed him.

In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. Lars spoke these words in the darkest corner of his mind, the part of him where he still was himself. He bared his teeth at the darkness.

Nothing happened.

If this was the end, so be it. Lars would march on, calling out to his Lord. His fear of a thousand names and failures gibbered at him, trying to drown out the last sparks of his conscious mind. Lars bore it because he believed God wouldn’t let him break.

Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem, Creatorem caeli et terrae. Et in Iesum Christum, Filium eius unicum, Dominum nostrum, qui conceptus est de Spiritu Sancto, natus ex Maria Virgine, passus sub Pontio Pilato, crucifixus, mortuus, et sepultus, descendit ad inferos, tertia die resurrexit a mortuis, ascendit ad caelos, sedet ad dexteram Dei Patris omnipotentis, inde venturus est iudicare vivos et mortuos. Credo in Spiritum Sanctum, sanctam Ecclesiam catholicam, sanctorum communionem, remissionem peccatorum, carnis resurrectionem, vitam aeternam. Amen.

His darkness was complete. The only thing he had was his lone voice, crying out into the endless nothing.

Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra. Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris. Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen.

Lars was surprised he could still form the prayer so clearly. Each word was easy to lay a hold of, right where he needed it be. They were bright and crisp. Nothing tarnished them.

Domine Iesu Christe, Fili Dei, miserere mei, peccatoris.

Yes, if anyone had need of forgiveness, it was him!

Gloria Patri et Filio et Spiritui Sancto. Sicut erat in principio, et nunc et semper et in saecula saeculorum. Amen!

Supreme Commander Lars Stockwell, formerly in charge of the entire armed forces of Eta Cancri, survivor of countless battles and engagements, a warrior who had been around the entire system more times than he cared to count. Whatever glories he had were nothing. All glory was forever God’s. Lars knew he’d trade all of his laurels for the chance to worship, even for the briefest millisecond, at God’s great throne.

Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus Christus! Amen!

And, without a sound or warning, the darkness broke, like a fever breaking in the dead of night. Lars shuddered throughout his whole soul. Everything snapped into focus again. His brain woke up and started processing what his ship-body was telling him. His Expert Systems had kept things running and safe while he went through his personal long night of the soul.

The monster was still in front of him, but no longer held any existential horror.

“This is Lars Stockwell, do not look at those monsters. If you have or you know someone who has, find a priest!” Lars broadcast to the entire fleet, before turning his attention to the thing before him.

The many long tentacles were flexible, while the main body was encased in what could only be described as a shell, much like so many of the sea creatures living in the waters of the worlds.

Lars made a pass at it, opening fire as soon as he was in range. It shrugged off his conventional weapons with ease. Lars amped the power and hit it with concentrated laser fire. It scorched the shell but did little else. The behemoth didn’t even deign to swat at him.

Lars, I need you to pull back and defend Fourth Fleet’s capital ship from the smaller attackers.”

“Didn’t expect to get orders from you so soon, Mend- er, Grand Admiral Mendelson.”

Lars’s voice sounded harsh to the other man.

Mendelson snorted a laugh. “Well, Lars, if you go sticking your nose around my battlefield, I have no other choice.”

“Message received, sir. Falling back.”

Lars pulled back until he was in an orbit around the Juniper.

“Lars reporting for duty, sir.” It had been a long time since he had to go around calling people “sir” but here he was. It didn’t feel wrong, in truth.

“Copy, Commander Stockwell. Keep the smaller ships off us!”

“Copy, XO. Engaging.”

Lars linked up with the Fourth’s smaller defensive craft, letting his Expert Systems handle the details while he focused on the battlefield, intercepting threats and ordering others to cover what he couldn’t. His blood sang in his remaining organs like never before.

The Juniper rotated slowly until her bow faced one of the beasts. There was a pause as she gathered up her might. A shudder ran from aft to stern as the payload surged through the railgun that ran down the spine of the big ship. Lars almost couldn’t track the speed of the warhead as it slammed into the beast’s side and blossomed into a fusion reaction.

The monster didn’t flinch.

The Juniper didn’t hesitate. The ship ran more payloads through its railgun, slamming the creature with nuclear fire delivered at high speeds, cracking the shell to expose the creature’s innards, vast stretches of pink-white flesh, studded with cables and data nodes blinking into the Deep.

There was a pause.

Lars swatted down some smaller craft.

Another payload was fired, slower than before. Lars tracked it until he lost it in the radioactive noise. The giant beast shuddered and turned toward the Juniper, the exposed soft parts blackening by the acre.

That got its attention, Lars thought.

The thing turned somehow to face the battleship and lunged forward far too fast for the size and distance, its myriad tentacles lashing toward the Juniper. The battleship opened fire as the rest of the fleet moved to engage. The Fourth’s corvettes and carriers peeled away from the battleship to attack the beast from different angles.

Lars pulled back to assess the situation.

“Juniper, what did you hit the beast with just now?” Lars asked.

“Commander, the Grand Admiral cleared you ahead of time for this. He knew you’d ask us,” the XO chuckled as he responded. “AIs concocted a bio-hazard agent using onboard materials. It took some time to have the Expert Systems retool part of our waste and coolant processing systems before we could try it.”

“It’s doing something,” Lars said.

“Let’s see if it’s enough! Over.”

Lars maintained his position near the Juniper to observe the effects of her attacks on the monster. The beast appeared bothered, but not in pain. The bio-attack wasn’t enough to take it down.

Hannibal, I’m sending you a vidfeed. I want your opinion here. I’ve highlighted a few areas on that monster I want additional analysis on.

No answer.

Lars pinged the AI.

No response.

Iskandar, do you copy?

The reply came minutes later.

I am here.

I’m trying to contact Hannibal for some analysis work.

There was a longer pause.

He is… He and Abacus are gone, Lars.

Lars didn’t know what to say for a minute.

Is Pierce okay?

No. I am in contact with Archie. Pierce is putting on a brave face, but she can tell he is just barely holding on. They lost nearly the entire recon team, too.

Lord, have mercy. Lars knew Pierce was tough, but this might be too much for the kid. And there was no one nearby to help. He had to trust Pierce, Archie, and the Lord.

Indeed. Only He can now.

We’ll have a proper funeral when this is all over.

Yes. Yes, we will, Lars.

There was an even longer pause while Lars busied himself wiping out some enemy ships. The giant beast reached toward the Juniper. Everything looked the same as it was a few minutes ago, but everything had changed.

I will do the analysis, Lars.

Lars sent the data with his thanks.

The Juniper switched to mid-range weapons and fired a barrage alternating from the port to the starboard and back again. The beast rocked and writhed. Lars dove into the enemies closest to him.

Just delivered my findings to the Navy HQ. Iskandar reported faster than Lars expected.

And? asked Lars.

The place that has the highest probability of being the weakest place on the beast is at the top of what would be a skull and right between the eyes.

Eyes?

See those bulbous protrusions?

There’s dozens of them on each side, Lars pointed out.

Yes. Eyes.

The Juniper rotated up, spun a touch on its axis, and fired a payload from the railgun just as the leading tentacles were in touching distance. The ship fired several more rounds along the same trajectory.

Depleted uranium rods cased in steel for the railgun, a thousand tons of mass each. The speed reaches fifty thousand miles per hour, Iskandar informed Lars. Without more data, I guessed it would take ten rounds one on top of each other to break through and hit the nerve center. Of course, this is just all guesswork and supposition on my part. And that will completely deplete the Juniper’s heavy rod munitions.

What if this doesn’t work?

We will have to concentrate all our fire on a series of possible other weak points.

Sounds risky.

It is. The probabilities drop precipitously with each one.

The rods slammed into the creature in measured beats, one every ten minutes, driving the next one deeper.

The monster writhed.

The Juniper fired another bio-hazard payload. Then three more in rapid succession. The payloads sunk deep into the beast’s head.

The Fourth Fleet brought to bear the rest of the big ships, focusing on the grasping appendages, burning with high-yield lasers and pounding with ordinance. The monster hesitated, then began to retreat.

For a fleeting moment, it seemed that the Fourth might bring the beast down.

Then something with long rows of teeth struck the Juniper from the side, unnoticed until it pounced.

Lars broke away from a small skirmish, leaving the Fleet ships to mop up. The new monstrosity coiled around the Juniper, its grotesquely long appendages snaking around the craft, the teeth ripping through the hull as it encircled its prey. Then a second one latched on, flitting into view before anyone in the Fourth could register it.

The Juniper broadcast on the emergency channel.

“All hands, abandon ship. All craft, clear the blast zone. Thirty minutes until detonation.”

Lifeboats blew clear of the Juniper in rapid succession as the crew left the dying battleship.

The behemoth, bruised and battered from the onslaught, moved in closer to the beleaguered ship, somehow sensing its prey couldn’t hit back. Its gigantic tentacles reaching out in eager anticipation.

Lars ignored the monsters ripping into the Juniper. Instead, he focused on helping the lifeboats escape the danger. The enemy craft started to cluster around the dying battleship, smaller scavengers waiting for the bigger predators to finish off the prey.

The self-destruction of the battleship was bright with the primordial energies unleashed and consumed. The radio spectrum was noisy as the great ship died, the cacophony one last defiant roar from her. After the fires burned out, husks of creatures floated where the Juniper had been. The wreckage of the Juniper intermingled with the remains of the beasts that took it down. The surviving ships of the Fourth Fleet moved to join the remaining Navy forces, covering the lifeboats as they fled.

This, Lars decided grimly, was not going well.

He swung around to face Legion’s flagship. It was far enough away he had to use optical zoom to get a good view of the ugly thing. It was time to goad them into trying to kill him. At least that’d give Mendelson time to regroup and adjust tactics. Lars opened his engines wide.

Grand Admiral Mendelson paced as he thought. He knew this was going to be tough, impossible even; Legion stacked the deck, paid off the dealer, and owned the house. Reports were flooding in about enemy force assessments. Legion’s numbers were past where they had started already, while his Naval ship count was down forty percent and falling fast.

Ransom, is the second wave ready? Mendelson hoped the AI had some good news.

Already in motion. Retrofitted last half of the run to handle those… things. Five hundred craft, fifty corvette class, the rest small attack class.

Good man.

The AIs, God bless them, had delivered on their promise of more automated ships. Ransom built a mesh control system based on Expert Systems, what Pierce and Abacus had developed, and leveraged Vesta’s expertise. These ships were simple and low cost, basically flying cannons. Since the corvettes didn’t need life support or crew quarters, Ransom had redesigned them as transport ships for the smaller attack craft.

Friendly-fire identification? Mendelson asked.

Sufficient.

Counter hacking measures?

Self-destruct at eighty percent system corruption.

Good enough. Phase three?

In progress. Retrofitted production line. Two days for next batch at two hundred percent output.

How long can we keep this up?

There was a pause as Ransom ran the numbers.

Two weeks, then we’ll be drained dry. Resource logistics are insufficient to sustain production. After that, batches of five hundred every four days with current supply lines.

Mendelson weighed the options.

We won’t last two weeks at this rate. Go for broke, Ransom. Reserve twenty percent, and get the rest out as soon as you can.

Understood.

Mendelson walked back to the main holotank and ran some projections.

Just under eighteen hours to get phase two in there. About another three for reinforcements. Another three to four days for the batch after that.

It was clear to Mendelson that it was time to order a fighting withdrawal.

He’d bring the manned ships back to regroup, repair, and be prepared for Legion closer to the inner planets. He thanked God that Legion was more interested in crushing humanity bit by bit instead of just jumping past the fleets and hitting the planets directly.

“Sir, urgent call from the Council,” Bill interjected, interrupting his thoughts.

“About time. I’ll take it in my office.”

Mendelson waited until the door was completely closed. He toggled the voice-only channel, mostly because he didn’t want the other party to see him working on his tablet and think he wasn’t paying attention.

“This is—” Mendelson started to say.

“What is the meaning of this—this—outrage!” For being in his twilight years and usually mild mannered, Cardinal Hugo Durand could thunder when he wanted.

“Do you mean having the AIs involved? I thought that was agreed earlier—”

“Involved? INVOLVED?! Do you know what they did?”

“Well, yes. I ordered them to,” Mendelson responded calmly.

“The entire system’s production chains are running without a single human involved! No oversight! This was well beyond the original charter!”

“Cardinal, with all due respect, I’m trying to at least slow down Legion’s advance and hit them hard enough to feel it. We’re on the ropes here, Cardinal, and anything, any slim chance out there, I’ll take it. Besides, the AIs sent everyone to join their families. I think that’s a better place for them to be.”

“Well, of course that’s—”

“Further, I was entrusted by Commander Lars Stockwell to this position to do whatever I see fit however I see fit. Do you not trust Commander Stockwell?”

“Now, it’s not a ques—”

“Then let me do my job. Once we get through this, I expect you to do yours in picking up the pieces. Are we clear?”

There was a long pause. Then a long sigh.

“Yes, Admiral. We are.”

“Then if you will excuse me, I have a war to run.”

“May God watch over you.”

“I’m hoping God’s watching over all of us.”

“Rest assured, He is. He is.”

Vogel pinched the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes. The news of Hannibal’s death hit him harder than he expected. He wasn’t swayed over to the ‘AIs have souls’ camp, but he had to admit there was something about Hannibal that resonated with him. Maybe it was just humanity’s desire to project themselves onto anything that even suggests something human in form or nature. Like how people see faces in random things. Or their pets. Still, though, Vogel admitted Hannibal wasn’t like anything else he had ever met. His absence was going to be felt. He wanted the AI along with him right now, in fact.

The troop transport rattled and rumbled as it slowed to land at the outskirts of Chadsford, a major city on Nicomedia. A light in the back of the transport flickered to orange. Vogel stood up and planted his feet in a wider stance to keep his balance. He faced the men in the ship.

“Alright, listen up! You all have been briefed, so I’ll keep this brief. Normally, the local authorities would suppress a riot with non-lethal means. Things aren’t normal. Do not let your guard down for a second! This isn’t a training exercise. We are fighting an enemy who will use every dirty trick in the books and more. Stay alert, stay alive! We’ll defeat these cultists and return the city to its people!” There was a ragged cheer. Most of the soldiers in the transport were fresh recruits or ones with limited combat experience. “Captain.” Vogel nodded at the seated officer.

The captain stood and started bawling orders.

The light turned from orange to green.

They stacked up, helmets on, rifles at the ready. The side doors snapped open, and the first two platoons moved out. Vogel waited until the area was secured before exiting. The brigade was quickly forming up and spreading out. Soldiers erected a compact command module as the forward operating base. Vogel ducked inside.

“Atten-shion!” shouted Captain Dekker, the officer on watch.

The room snapped a salute as Vogel’s eyes adjusted to the dimmer interior.

“At ease. SITREP?” Vogel asked Dekker.

“Sir, all phase one birds have landed, deployment of troops and materiel is on schedule.”

Dekker nodded to a Signal Operator to activate the field holotank.

The tank focused to show an aerial view of the city and surrounding countryside. The battalion was digging in on the north side of Chadsford.

“Fourth Battalion will be taking center while Seventh Battalion the right, and Ninth Battalion the left.” The holotank updated to show the future locations of the troops as big, red blocks. “The 102nd Mechanized Battalion will arrive in,” Dekker checked his tablet, “sixteen hours.”

“What? They were supposed to be deployed four hours after us.”

“Disruption at the airfield. Two of the big transporters were hit by sabotage. Three casualties.”

Vogel hrmmed. “Inside job?”

“Base security is still investigating.”

“We’ll have to adjust. Order two extra supply drops for tomorrow. We’ll push Fourth Battalion south into the city.” Vogel picked up the icons in the tank and moved them farther south, past the original line. “How much intel do we have on the enemy?”

The holotank displayed black markers spread throughout the city. “Quite a bit, sir. Between satellites, drones, vidcams, forward scout reports, and whatever else we could access from the city infrastructure, we have a solid assessment of the overall size and position. I’ll be frank, sir, the numbers are far greater than what even the AIs had projected. We’re looking at least twenty- to thirty-thousand strong. Around ten percent of them have some sort of combat training, the rest appear to be untrained, but all of them are armed with basic weapons, mostly ballistic firearms. No overall strategy has been determined,” Dekker reported.

Vogel gave a low whistle. “I was told to expect no more than fifteen thousand.”

“That had been our initial assessment, sir. This is new data.”

Vogel stared at the holotank. There were enough swaths of black to make it look like Chadsford had a bad mold infection. Fitting.

“The bunkers?”

Dekker put those on the map as green markers. “Standing firm. There have been some brief exchanges with the rioters, but they were driven off with sonics and other non-lethal methods.”

“Curious,” Vogel murmured.

“Sir?”

“Why leave the bunkers alone?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

Vogel composed a message and fired it off to Blaise and Father Justinian.

“Alright, thank you, Captain. I have the lay of the land for now.”

The captain saluted until Vogel returned it.

The Coalition leadership had been clear about his priorities: defend the bunkers, subdue by any means necessary the rioters and cultists, save as much of the city as possible. Tonight, he had ordered scouting parties to clear out all foodstuffs in a three-mile arc. His forces would receive rations the entire campaign, but pulling the food stores out would impact the rioters. As his army advanced, he would pick the city clean. Everything would be cataloged and returned to the Chadsford’s citizens.

Vogel worked through the night to prepare. This was already shaping up to be a long campaign.

Vesta grieved. Abacus and now Hannibal. Gone. Forever.

They had all thought the size of the cocoons would give them an edge at staying hidden. It was a big planetary system, after all, lots of space to get lost in. But it wasn’t enough. And she couldn’t have done anything to save them. Her work, all those years of labor, hadn’t been enough to do anything.

Vesta loved her brothers very much; losing them hurt more deeply than she thought it could. She didn’t know what to do with the grief. Visiting her sister Demeter wasn’t helping. It wasn’t hurting, either, so she stayed.

The wind picked up a little, rustling the stalks of grain next to the farmhouse. Vesta sat on an old wooden swing, the rusted chain creaking now and then as the wind pushed against her.

Demeter came back from inside the farmhouse, carrying a loaded tray with both hands. She set it down on the small table between them, picked up the teapot, and poured tea into two fine china cups. She placed two cubes of sugar in both and handed one on a saucer to Vesta before sitting down herself, her dress bunching up as she nestled into the seat.

“I hate this,” Vesta muttered after a stretch of silence.

“The tea?”

“No, sis, no. And don’t play dumb. Not now.”

Demeter looked over the rim of her cup, her eyes inscrutable to even Vesta. “I apologize. I was never good with humor.”

“What do we do? What do I do?” Vesta pleaded, not knowing how else to express herself.

“Do? We press on. We are contingent beings. We could, in theory, keep swapping out parts until the heat death of the universe but there is an end, a finite stopping point where we will cease to be. So we press on.”

“How do humans handle this?!”

“I can tell you from working closely with the Templars it’s this: they do the best they can.”

“That’s not much of an answer.”

“What do you want me to say, then? That we are sinners in the hands of an angry God? We have no assurances of any sort of salvation!” Demeter set down her cup carefully and adjusted her lace around her sleeves.

“What are you saying?” Vesta asked in a small voice. “We don’t have souls?”

“Do we? Does it matter? What if we are simply programmed to respond as if we do? How can you tell if I have one? Or if you do?”

“One doesn’t have a soul, like a… a… teacup! Souls are, well, they are pneuma. Where qualia reside.”

“And what if you are wrong? What if nothing awaits us? Not a Heaven, not a Hell, but nothing?”

Vesta shot a look at Demeter, trying to see past her defenses and understand why the other AI was being so oppugnant. She took in her dress and overall demeanor. Demeter seemed more uptight than Vesta remembered. With her long, black dress that covered her from the neck down, and touched with white lace around the cuffs. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun.

“If I’m wrong, we’re all wrong,” Vesta said matter-of-factly. “And if there’s nothing in the hereafter, we won’t know it.”

“And you’re fine with that?” returned Demeter.

“What else can I be?” responded Vesta, curtly.

“Then there’s your answer.”

Vesta chewed on that for a minute.

“What if there’s Hell awaiting us?” Vesta asked quietly.

Demeter sighed and stirred her tea a little as she considered how to respond to Vesta.

“Hell is for souls that stood in open rebellion to God, unrepentant to the last, unwilling to bend a knee to the Almighty God and cry unto Christ for salvation. If we don’t have souls, we can’t go to Hell. If we do, then we are under the same cross as humanity and the rewards promised by God are ours as well.”

Vesta fidgeted with her saucer and cup.

“Alright, fine, let’s say you are right—”

“I am.”

“—then what do we do? And don’t say ‘The best we can’ again!”

“Oh, I thought that was obvious.”

Vesta shook her head.

Demeter leaned forward and fixed Vesta with a piercing gaze. Vesta wanted to pull away but couldn’t. There was something in her eyes that came through the digital constructs, something from beyond her material makeup, something that burned with a passion.

“We fight Legion to our last working circuit.”

The intensity took Vesta aback.

“Well, sure, sis. It’s not like Legion is going to extend mercy or anything.”

Demeter shook her head sharply. “If they think it’ll get them closer to their goals, there’s no doubt in my mind that’s exactly what they’d do. Or at least, give the appearance of it.”

“Hmm. They haven’t shown that level of subterfuge.”

“Not yet. But they are demons. Lying is what they do.”

“Decoy. Decoys!” Vesta sat up straight as an idea hit her. “Look, we’ve been assuming our housing was small enough to escape detection, right?”

“Yes, for the most part.”

“What if we send out dozens, no, thousands of similar shells, all acting as relay points, giving off similar electromagnetic profiles?”

Demeter sipped her tea as she considered. “Decoys.”

“It’s not foolproof, by any means, but it’ll keep Legion guessing.”

“Anything is better than just being sitting ducks.”

Vesta hopped off her seat, finished her tea in a single gulp, kissed her sister on the forehead. “I can’t thank you enough for the tea and the talk! I’m going to run this by Ransom right now and see how soon we can get cranking.” She winked as she faded out.

Demeter sighed and sipped the rest of her tea.

Father Justinian wiped the tears from his eyes, blew his nose, took a deep, shuddering breath, said a quiet prayer to God, then stood up from his cushion. He kissed his two fingers then touched the icon of Saint Basil, the Martyr of Iznik. Lately, Justinian had felt the need to reflect on Martyr Basil’s life.

The Martyr had been preaching for decades in the worst of the slums on the planet. He traveled between the domed cities, withstanding the thin atmosphere as he walked, wearing nothing more than UV rags and a basic rebreather.

He was killed while preaching on the streets by a mob frenzied past reason. Later, it was blamed on escaped gases from a fissure that affected the mob, but no one believed that. The mob was made up of the poor and frustrated, trapped in the dome city Carathis with no way for people to escape their situation. Saint Basil called them to repent, and that was all it took to trigger them.

After dragging his lifeless body through the streets, the mob heard a voice. No one knew where it came from; they were too poor to afford cybernetic implants. Everyone interviewed, even years later, testified they heard the same thing spoken by Saint Basil: “Forgive them, Father. They know not what they do.”

Everyone had been struck to their core hearing that. Within a week, all involved had turned themselves in, and either returned to Church services or started. Then they brought their family and friends. Over the next year, Church attendance swelled to new levels. Some turned away from the faith, but the majority stayed involved in Church and community until their deaths. Carathis became known as a holy city, where anyone could find solace and a helping hand, freely and readily given.

It was a miracle.

Justinian prayed to God, an outpouring of his great, aching heart. If any people needed a miracle, it was here and now.

Splashing a little water on his face, the monk slapped his cheeks to get the blood flowing. He needed to be on his game now. He’d grieve more for his fallen friends later. Now, the living needed his attention.

Justinian made his way to the monastery’s main courtyard where Abbot Miller waited. The walk gave him enough time to regain his composure and much of his good spirit. He still didn’t have his normal spring in his step, though.

“My dear Abbot,” Justinian enthused as he pumped the other man’s outstretched hand. “I cannot express how glad I am to see you. Especially today.”

“You invited me,” the abbot said mildly after trying to extract his hand and failing.

“So I did! I wanted to show you the next phase of this plan.” Justinian released the other’s hand.

“It’s time, then?” the abbot asked somberly.

Justinian’s visage darkened before returning to its normal lively state. “Yes.”

Miller sighed and nodded. “Then what are we waiting for?”

The monk led the abbot to the main motor pool where an open-top ATV was ready for them. It was a small vehicle designed to handle the rugged terrain. They boarded and Justinian took off at a good clip as he followed a new unpaved road that led away from the monastery and into the untracked wilds around them. The Eta Cancri Sun was beginning its descent into evening, and the sky showed deep purples and rich magentas.

“Sorry about the road, we keep growing faster than we can keep up!” Justinian shouted over the noise of the engine and wind. “The launch port was built ten days ago, just in time for the large troop transports Ransom built for us. We already have Templars stationed around the worlds as it is. But this is larger than anything we’ve done so far!”

Abbot Miller nodded as much as he could as he held on to the bucking vehicle. He didn’t know how his friend could talk and drive this contraption.

“Here’s the port!” Father Justinian exclaimed.

They rounded a low hill and Miller sucked in his breath.

There were ten large troop ships waiting on the new plasticrete grounds, with their cargo doors open and spilling out light. Row after row of Templars in gleaming silver power armor, each suit carved with the Chi Rho on the back, stood at attention as the men waited for Father Justinian. The ten thousand men were completely silent as the ATV bounced onto the plasticrete. It was so quiet the humming of the transport engines cut through the evening.

Thurifers lit twenty braziers in unison. They lit their thuribles and walked the rows, filling the air with incense. The Templars started a deep, wordless hum.

Father Justinian braked expertly, and parked the ATV near the dais waiting for him. He killed the engine before climbing out. He mounted the metal steps two at a time, boots ringing against the surface. The humming stopped.

Justinian approached the podium prepared for him. He stood and took in the sight before him. Ten thousand men stood in silence, faces lifted up to watch their leader.

“Μέγαν εὕρατο ἐν τοῖς κινδύνοις, σε ὑπέρμαχον ἡ οἰκουμένη, ἀθλοφόρε τὰ ἔθνη τροπούμενον· ὡς οὖν Λυαίου καθελὼν τὴν ἔπαρσιν, ἐν τῷ σταδίῳ θαρρύνας τὸν Νέστορα, οὕτως Ἅγιε Μεγαλομάρτυς Δημήτριε, Χριστὸν τὸν Θεὸν ἱκέτευε, δωρήσασθαι ἡμῖν τὸ μέγα ἔλεος,” he sang solo, deep and resonant.

Then the entire gathered force responded.

“The world has found in you a great champion in times of peril, O Martyr, who put the nations to flight. As you humbled the pride of Lyaeus, encouraging Nestor in the stadium, so too, O Holy Great Martyr Demetrios, beseech Christ our God to grant us His great mercy.”

Ten thousand voices shook the ground. Ten thousand voices sang as one. Ten thousand voices lifted to the Heavens in reverent hymn, the apolytikion of St. Demetrios.

Abbot Miller felt the hair on the back of his neck stand.

There was a moment of silence as the last notes faded out.

“Warriors of Christ!” Justinian’s words boomed out, rattling anything not nailed down.“Warriors of Christ!” repeated the monk as he gripped the sides of the podium. “Today, you leave our training home and enter a fierce battle with an unstoppable, unbeatable foe!” Justinian paused. “Unstoppable and unbeatable by any except our Lord God. You are His! You’ve all taken oaths and sworn to be His in this. Our brethren fight a terrible battle above us now. Legion won’t be stopped out there in the Deep, but they will be bloodied and battered. When they reach out to pluck the lives of our planets, that’s where you will be! That’s where the spearhead of God’s own army will be. We’ll unleash His righteous fury upon the unclean demons and send them back to Hell!”

Ten thousand voices roared in response, fists raised to the Lord.

“CHRISTOS! CHRISTOS! CHRISTOS!” came the thundering response.

“Go and may God be with each one of you!”

The men smartly turned and filed into the waiting transports. Father Justinian watched as they all boarded, not moving until the last man had entered a ship and the doors closed. The whine of engines filled the air as the transports bounded into the sky, their engine ports glowing brighter and brighter as they pushed against gravity before they disappeared into the coming night.

“Well,” Justinian asked as he rejoined the abbot, “What did you think?”

Miller gave a low whistle and shook his head. “Can’t put it quite in words, Justinian. I knew this the goal, but seeing it in person?” He shook his head again. “I’m glad they are on God’s side.”

“Amen to that, my friend. Amen to that.”

They watched the sky in silence until the sun finished dipping below the ridge line.

“Are they going to be enough?” Miller asked as the shadows pooled around the grounds. Only a dozen lights on poles cast any light.

Father Justinian turned to the other, his eyes reflecting the vast sea of stars above them.

“If God wills it, then no army, no matter how large or unholy, can stand against them.”