“And you are sure she’s still on board with this plan?” Father Justinian asked Archie.

The small craft, A Thousand Blossoms, had dropped into orbit around Amorium an hour ago. Justinian still had several hours before his trajectory lined up to get him down to the monastery Nuovo Vallombrosa. He was currently floating at a small desk in the small lounge area, looking at maps and plans on his holodisplay. The small craft hummed quietly, the life support system whirred into life as it pushed cleaned oxygen through the cabin. The navigation system chattered to itself as it continuously plotted safe landing trajectories to the planet. Justinian found it soothing, something he sorely needed.

Archie laughed, mirth shining in her blue-tinted eyes. She stood next to his desk where the small holoprojector was attached to the wall. “My dear Justinian, you’ve asked me this question a dozen times, and my answer is always the same. Demeter is ready. Remember, she volunteered. And I believe this plan is important to our war against Legion. Besides, it’s long past time to ask that question.” She smiled at the monk.

Father Justinian blew out a gusty sigh. “Alright. If she’s willing to commit to this, I’ll move Heaven and Amorium to ensure it happens.” He scrubbed a hand through his bristly beard. “I believe in this plan you and Pierce put together. In truth, I can’t see how to make the Synod’s plans work in a timely manner without her assistance. I apologize, Archie, for coming across as a querulous old man.”

“And long-winded!”

“Ha, well, yes.” Justinian fell silent as he thought, stroking his graying beard. “I hope she finds her new role and surroundings to be to her liking.”

Archie’s image frowned slightly. “She’s not doing this for her well being, Father, Demeter knows the dangers we all face just as well as anyone else.”

“I know, but people–and AIs–can later find a decision that seemed so clear at first, to later not yield the expected results, and then doubting and second-guessing set in. We have gathered enough regret as it is in this war and we gather yet more, no need to compound woes unnecessarily.”

Archie nodded. “She won’t regret this. We’ve talked long and earnestly. I know her heart and mind on this.”

“Then my mind is set at ease, my dear. God willing, we’ll make Amorium her home. How are things going for the others?” The monk asked, switching the subject. Archie shrugged. “Abacus is insisting on learning how to fight and Pierce is fully on board with the idea. They even roped Iskandar into it. Vesta has some new test she wants to run on Abacus, too. I don’t know, I might not go. I feel it’s unseemly for them to be so enthusiastic about all of it.”

It was Justinian’s turn to laugh. “Well then, if you don’t mind, how about helping Demeter and myself?”

Archie furrowed her brow, thinking. “You know what? I’m going to do that. Let those idiots Pierce and Abacus play their war games. I’ll just make sure they get things started correctly first. Besides, it’ll take them awhile to get things ready. I can certainly help here until then.”

Justinian beamed at her. He knew she wouldn’t completely leave Pierce alone but having her wanting to focus on this project was good news for everyone. “Excellent! Welcome aboard our little insane venture! Now, let’s go over the plans one more time.”

Archie almost rolled her eyes. “Fine, fine. Let’s go over it again.”

Father Justinian sat in the padded chair, one large hand resting on the chair’s arm while he tapped his leg with the other as he stared down the abbot. The two men were in the abbot’s spacious office at the monastery of Nuovo Vallombrosa.

Abbot Miller leaned forward in his chair and narrowed his eyes, keeping his gaze locked on the other man across his desk. “What you ask isn’t, pardon me, orthodox in the slightest,” the abbot said calmly.

“I know,” the monk replied simply.

“The Schi—”

Father Justinian wanted to throw his cup at the abbot. “This is beyond our doctrinal and organizational disagreements, regardless of the centuries they’ve lasted!” he snapped, cutting off Miller. They had been arguing for close to an hour at this point, and Justinian’s nerves were rubbed raw by the abbot’s reluctance to commit either way.

Miller sighed and sank back into his chair, breaking eye contact first. “You’re correct. I know this, and yet –” he stopped himself and shook his head violently. “And yet it doesn’t matter.”

“No, right now it doesn’t matter,” Justinian agreed with him. “We aren’t seeking a mend in fellowship. That’s well beyond our purview, to say the least.” Abbot Miller looked up at the ceiling as he thought. Most of his concerns Justinian had met well enough. “And why here?” Miller asked as he returned the monk’s gaze, straightening in his chair.

Father Justinian cleared his throat. “A few reasons. Probably the most important is this is hallowed ground. I believe, Abbot, that this place is off Legion’s radar. At least, for now.”

“Who knows Demeter will be coming here?” Abbot Miller asked next.

“Aside from her family, very few people. After she barely managed to escape her facility alive, we’ve tried to keep her out of sight, so to speak. The AIs had insisted we maintain the facade that she was destroyed.”

Abbot Miller shook his head sadly. “Legion taking Daras was hard news to hear.”

Justinian sighed unhappily. “It was a hard thing, for certain. We stalled Legion long enough to evacuate most of the city Monemvassia. The brave soldiers of the First Unified Consortium Forces fought to the last man on Daras. May their spirits rest with God and all the Saints.”

They paused to cross themselves. The abbot kissed his rosary.

“Why not land owned by an Orthodox order?” Abbot Miller followed up after a minute of silence out of respect.

“Excellent question!” Father Justinian brightened up, even as his thoughts were still on men who sacrificed everything on Daras. He felt the abbot was coming around to his point of view. “Hannibal had made several suggestions, some owned by my order. Demeter looked them over and chose here. I, of course, asked her why. The answer she gave me was, and bear in mind these are her words: ‘Because God told me this was a good place.’” He held up his hands as if staving off argument from the abbot. “I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel some sort of pressure. After all, you asked. I merely repeated what I know.”

Miller nodded slowly as he considered the answers. “I need at least a day or two to meditate and pray.”

“Of course, Abbot. Take your time. You must be convinced of your answer, deeply so, one way or the other." Justinian smiled broadly. Now they were getting somewhere. He knew it from the abbot’s body language. The man looked less on edge and more introspective.

“I’ll have one of the order come and show you your cell while you are here.” Abbot Miller returned the monk’s smile. “I assume you know our schedule?”

“Of course, Abbot. And thank you. May the Lord grant you the answers you seek.”

The abbot took three days to deliberate, even after arranging a quick conference with Archie and Father Justinian to grill the two of them about the scope of the project for the better part of an hour. Curiously, the abbot didn’t ask to talk to Demeter herself, which was just as well, since the AI was still recovering from the attack on her facility and adjusting to her new hardware. After that discussion, Justinian didn’t see Abbot Miller.

The monk held his impatience in check while he kept to his own thoughts in the monastery, joining in for the singing and few lectures the members of the Order gave during the day to anyone wanting to attend. Justinian had told the Synod he’d remain out of touch until a decision was made. He took walks on the grounds and pried gently into everything going on around him. The cenobitic monks were more than gracious to share whatever they could with Justinian. Of course, Archie would get into an argument with him nightly about how things were going, but Justinian always talked her into being patient just a day more.

Fine, she sniffed on the second night as her answer, but I don’t know what the hold up here is.

Justinian smiled. It’s because you are ever the pragmatic, my dear AI.

Finally, on the third day, Justinian was called into the abbot’s office. The big man sank into the chair he had enjoyed the first visit and the abbot himself presented him with a cup of coffee.

“Beans grown here on Amorium,” Abbot Miller said with pride.

After some pleasantries had been exchanged, the abbot cleared his throat. “You and your monks have my permission to set up here, on the monastery grounds.”

“And Demeter?”

The abbot nodded. “Of course the AI is welcome. No one shall hear from me that she’s here.”

Father Justinian felt the tension drain from him. He sank back into his chair more. “Thank you, Abbot Miller.” He sipped from the cup. It was dark and bitter, the way he liked it.

Abbot Miller stood up and tapped a command sequence on his desk. The lights lowered and a map was projected into the main space of the abbot’s office. The monastery had expanded the lands it owned over the past decade or three. The hoppers that had plagued the human settlers had been mostly contained, opening more land for anyone that wanted it. The strange beasts dubbed the Silent Ones that had remained an enigma were still around. Their presence, if not celebrated, was less of a cause of alarm than before. In fact, in their own strange way, they had encouraged more faithful Church attendance and deeper commitment to the community and Christ. The story of them saving a family had spread like wildfire throughout the community and beyond. Most that heard took it as a miracle. Signs and miracles don’t always change hearts, but this one had a profound effect.

Miller walked over to the map as Justinian turned in his chair to see it. “Twelve kilometers away to the southwest, we have land completely undeveloped.” He pointed to a section which flashed white and zoomed in. “Aside from the initial survey, we haven’t done anything with it. As you can see, it’s hilly but not steep. A few native tree clusters and a lot of prairie grasses. The native wildlife don’t use that land much, there’s more fertile land to the east and west with more sources of water while this area is drier than most around it. How much space do you need?”

Father Justinian sipped his coffee. “Twelve hectares should be enough.”

The abbot nodded. “I’ll have my office arrange the details with yours. Also, one condition.”

“Allow me to guess, Abbot. We aren’t to try and convert anyone?”

Abbot Miller actually laughed. “No, nothing of the sort.” He smiled at the larger man, the abbot’s clean-shaven face and head a stark opposite to the bushy beard on the Orthodox monk. “My condition is once a month we take turns attending each other’s Eucharistic services in addition to our own. We won’t partake, of course, but I’d like to see how you do things.”

The monk’s mouth hung slightly open. He blinked, then let out a roar of a laugh. “Agreed, Abbot Miller, and heartily so!” He stood up and set down his cup. He extended his hand with a grin that peeked out of his beard. The two men shook on it. “While this mayn’t mend the breach between our organizations, our pure one and your heretical splinter, then at least might we be friends!” Father Justinian enthused with a twinkle in his eye as he vigorously shook the abbot’s hand. He felt a lightness he hadn’t felt since he started on this journey. Abbot Miller laughed again and politely pulled his hand back, trying to work feeling back into it without causing offense. “I hope you are right, Justinian.” He paused “Do you think your plan is going to work?” he asked somberly.

Father Justinian’s grin faded. “I believe it will. I believe it so strongly, Abbot, I’m willing to do anything the Lord asks me in order to manifest it.” The abbot nodded. “Then let’s pray for your success.”

“Amen,” the monk responded fervently.

Five months later, Justinian invited the abbot to tour the new monastery. The Orthodox monks had built in a small valley where a thin stream wound along the floor almost year-round. As Abbot Miller drove along the trail, he couldn’t help but feel a little excited. Justinian had been open with the planning stage, explaining the overall design and purpose candidly. Miller was looking forward to seeing it all in person.

The gunmetal walls were the first thing Abbot Miller saw as he crested a small hill in his old Jeep. The color wasn’t terribly out of place of the browns and burnt oranges of the wind-swept grasses and lichen around it. The walls ran in a perfect square, five-hundred feet by five-hundred feet. The complex was fortified against land or air assaults and the scramblers kept anything but human eyes from actually seeing it. Out of curiosity, Miller stopped and brought up his binoculars. All he saw was static. He turned off the electronics and activated only the optics. The walls leaped into sharp view. He scanned the nigh featureless walls before putting away the binoculars.

It looked impressive, Miller mused to himself as he drove the remaining distance. The compound grew larger as he approached the currently closed wide double doors. The Phos Zoe cross was embossed on the metal doors, each arm six feet in length. Over the cross were the engraved words of “Never fear the power of evil more than your trust in the power and love of God.”

The abbot stopped the Jeep in front of the seal that indicated the front entrance. He got out of the vehicle into the cool, thin air. Summer was starting to end and the short fall promised to be cold.

Up closer the walls looked even taller. Miller craned his neck, looking up thirty feet, yet still couldn’t see the top. From the plans Justinian shared with him, the walls were another twelve underground and six feet wide. Miller shook his head in wonder. He had watched the delivery craft come and go almost twenty-eight hours a day for three months. The resources Justinian commanded was awe-inspiring.

The human-sized door appeared, invisible until it started opening, and the monk stepped out with a big grin peeking through his beard. “Ah, my friend!” Justinian called out to the abbot. “Come, come, leave your vehicle. I’ll have one of the brethren park it!” He clasped the other’s hand warmly before leading the way.

Abbot Miller followed the burly monk as they entered the monastery, his curiosity barely contained.

The first thing the abbot saw was the large, open courtyard. It was at least two-hundred feet across, surrounded by interconnected buildings on all sides, with the main chapel on the far side, the gunmetal cross on top of the steeple overlooking everything.

The motorpool was next to the main gate, only a few vehicles were parked and one of them was being serviced by monks in blue grease-stained cassocks. A concrete road ran due north, broad enough for even the abbot’s Jeep, straight from the gate to the chapel. On his right, a number of monks were practicing a martial art on patch of hard earth. The abbot wasn’t familiar enough with to give it a name. Strikes, grapples, and throws seemed the focus of the exercises. A few instructors circulated around the men, shouting orders and explanations over the grunting and noise of practice.

On the other side of the road, monks and bots were working together to build what looked like an obstacle course of no small size. The abbot noticed large semi-spheres attached to the walls every twenty feet or so. Distances were a bit deceiving but they looked three feet in diameter. Miller didn’t remember what those were supposed to be for from the plans. Sensors, he thought hesitantly.

“This part is the physical fitness yard,” Justinian explained as he waved an arm around, breaking the abbot’s concentration. “We have a few areas indoor for weights and the like, but, while the weather holds, we’re getting as much sun as we can.”

Abbot Miller winced in sympathy as he watched one man execute a perfect throw on another, who then hit the ground loud enough to be heard across the yard. From what Miller could discern, the men were composed of different ages and skill levels.

“Come! I have more to show!” Father Justinian pulled the abbot away and into a building on their left.

Father Justinian steamed ahead, talking almost non-stop as he showed his guest the facility they had built. Mess halls, sleeping dorms, study rooms, exercise rooms, data and computation rooms, machinist shops, laboratories, chapels, storage rooms, food processing rooms, meal prep areas, cells for quiet study, libraries, infirmaries, and more. It was very similar to the Abbot Miller’s own monastery except this was much larger, not to mention a fortress with a much more militaristic bent than his own. Everything looked and smelled new. Some equipment was still in protective wraps and not plugged in. Abbot estimated at least five to six hundred men could live and work here, even though currently only several dozen were present.

The burly monk explained, as they walked, that the art would come later. “I have to offer an apology, my dear Abbot, for the dearth of anything of any true beauty. Unfortunately, we’ve moved at such a determined pace to complete the basics of the monastery we’ve not had the time to add anything artistic and pleasing to the eye. However, once we get settled, we’ll begin our beautification process. It’ll take decades, at least, to lay down the framework, of course. Demeter is almost beside herself when I explained it to her. She’s very excited to be part of the planning.”

Abbot Miller nodded in understanding. Monastery art was a complicated process, taking several lifetimes to fully develop and realize. Each wall was subject to embellishment, the older monasteries had motifs that could take up to a dozen rooms to fully bloom.

“What about food production?” Miller asked as they walked.

Father Justinian frowned. “Right now, it’s just vat-grown protein slop. Horrible stuff, developed, I’m sure, by an AI that wanted to play a practical joke on us poor humans. Nothing could taste so off-yet-not-off like that by accident!”

The abbot laughed as they stepped outside and walked toward the main chapel. “Do you have plans for real food?”

“Demeter is working on the problem, my good Abbot. I suspect we will be engaged in some sort of bartering with you and the local populace before too long.” The chapel was surprisingly spartan. Plain pews with no backs or arm rests. A simple cross at the front above a plain wood screen. The abbot couldn’t see the altar from where he stood, the plain doors were shut.

“This looks more Protestant than what I expected, Justinian,” Abbot Miller said with some surprise in his voice. “No offense,” he hastily added. “None taken!” The monk paused in the middle of the room. He turned and faced the abbot. “We’re trying something a little different here. Or maybe something old, much older than our time here in this system.”

Abbot Miller stayed quiet, letting the other man speak. By now, he knew the monk well enough to only give him a slight nudge to keep him going. “Yes, much older. At least, for now. You’ve seen the plans and now the grounds, what do you think?” Justinian asked Abbot Miller.

Miller blinked. He wasn’t expecting that question so soon. He paused to reflect, thinking on everything he had seen already. “Now that I’ve actually seen the monastery with my own eyes, I’d say you’re gearing up for war.”

“Precisely!”

The abbot frowned. “We are not men of war, Justinian. We support the people through our faith and good works. I’m afraid I don’t fully understand your motivation.” “Abbot Miller, I don’t want you to be a man of war. No, we’re willing to take upon us that mantle.”

“Don’t we have a Unified Armed Forces of the Coalition? Isn’t the UAF enough?”

“You are thinking of men and weapons and bullets. All very important, to be sure, but what we plan on is different. I have more to show, and I believe some of your confusion will be cleared once you have a chance to see with your own eyes.”

Exiting the chapel, the abbot followed Justinian down a short hallway to an elevator bank. They bordered the first elevator that opened for them. After they descended a level, Justinian led Miller to a large, open room where another dozen monks stood at individual stations, hand-loading ammunition, while fans circulated the air with a business-like hum.

“Now, here’s where things get more exciting!” Justinian said with a twinkle in his eye.

Father Justinian took Abbot Miller over to the nearest brother, hard at work.

“Brother Robin, would you mind terribly if we imposed upon you?” Father Justinian rumbled in a low voice so as not to disturb the others at their tasks. The other man looked up from his bench. A terrible scar covered his left side of his face, red and puckered on the edges, his left ear a snarled mess of poorly healed cartilage. The man looked to be in his early thirties—but the scar made it hard to pin his age any more specifically than that. “Of course not, Father,” he said with a slight slur, his left side of his mouth not working well. “Excellent! You know our guest?”

“Yes. Abbot Miller, it’s a pleasure,” Brother Robin said, extending his right hand for a handshake.

“All mine, brother,” the abbot said sincerely.

“Brother Robin, could you explain to our friend what you are doing?”

“Me and my brethren are preparing ammo for the war, Abbot. Each of us have taken strict vows of poverty and dedicated to our lives to this work,” Brother Robin explained. “Each round is blessed and we engrave the Holy Cross on the bullet.”

It was then that the abbot realized that, aside from the normal equipment, each station had a magnification field and tools for doing delicate work. “Can I see one?” Miller asked, curious.

The brother monk nodded and reached onto his desk then plucked a round off the surface. “I work with the handgun rounds. This is a standard .45 auto. If you want to walk over here, Abbot, you can see the work I’ve just finished on this round. Hold it in the field like this. That’s right, just like that. You should be able to see the engraving.”

Abbot Miller examined the tip of the round. Everything from the neck to the head was engraved delicately with an ornate cross and something in Greek he couldn’t read. Swirls and whorls covered the rest of the tip. It seemed a shame that so much work went into the round and the abbot said so.

Robin laughed almost soundlessly. “That’s the beauty and joy of these! Each round is special, blessed and sanctified. It is by our hands they are lifted up into tools to be used against the Enemy. Our purpose is to make, theirs is to destroy! And what a way to glorify the Eternal with something so impermanent!” Something echoed from the abbot’s childhood. He understood in part. Miller nodded and returned the round.

“Brother Robin, thank you for your time,” Abbot Miller said, thoughtfully, reflecting on the man’s words.

“Ah! Wait, wait. Brother, would it hurt you too much to tell your story?” Father Justinian asked the other man kindly.

Robin shook his head. He took a deep breath before he started. “Abbot, I was wounded years ago in one of the border skirmishes in the asteroid belt, before Legion came. By the time medical aid could get to me, it was too late to do much for me.” He paused and looked off in the distance. His voice lowered. “I was lost, Abbot, after that. I had sworn to serve one of the Merchant Princes, but over the years I had seen too much death, lost too many friends.” Robin shook his head as if to shake something unpleasant into clearer focus. “After, I did things I’m not proud of. I hurt others for my amusement. I started to drink heavily and when that didn’t blunt the pain, I turned to designer drugs. And those weren’t enough.” He stopped, his voice failing him.

“Brother Robin was going to kill himself,” Justinian said quietly.

The other man shuddered. “Bottom of the barrel, Abbot. I turned my back on everything, especially God. So what was the point to anything?”

Abbot Miller kept quiet and let the other man talk even as his heart ached for him. This wasn’t an unusual story, to say the least.

“Anyway, I decided I had reached the end of my rope. I couldn’t bear it no more. So I started to go down to some airlocks I knew and they wouldn’t ask no questions I wasn’t going to answer. Then I passed an Orthodox chapel. Nothing was going on. It looked empty. But something bumped me, Abbot. I stopped. I tried to go in, but each step felt heavier than the last. I was bowed over, Abbot, I was looking at my feet and I couldn’t take another step. I dropped to the floor on all fours, like the animal I was. Then I heard a voice. It said, softly, ‘Look up.’ I fought against what felt like the entire weight of the world on me, but I raised my head. I saw the Crucifix! Christ burned with a fire I can’t explain but there it was!” Tears welled up in his right eye. “I crawled into that chapel, Abbot, on my hands and knees, trying to reach the Crucifix that burned at the end of the long nave. I saw shoes come into view, black polished shoes, and a voice spoke to me.” Robin paused to dab his eye with a rag. “I don’t know what was said, but the Father helped me to my feet and heard my confession. All that weight was good and gone after. I was baptized as soon as I could and never looked back.” He blew his nose nosily. He offered the abbot a lopsided smile that spoke of the pain he once knew and the joy he now carried.

“Thank you, Brother. We’ll let you get back to work,” Father Justinian said quietly and patted him on the back.

Soundlessly, Robin nodded and returned to his workbench.

The other two left the room and went down another level.

“All of those men have similar stories. Sinners, depraved men, hopeless and lost. And each one accepted Christ wholeheartedly,” Father Justinian explained as they walked down the hallway after stepping out of the elevator. “All of them have a purpose, now; all of them feel wanted and needed.”

“What you are doing, reclaiming lost souls, fills my heart with joy, Justinian. But it seems like we’d run out of bullets faster than they can crank them out,” the abbot said carefully, trying not to offend his host.

“Of course, of course! I’m glad you said something!” Justinian stopped in front of a heavy looking door and pressed his palm against a panel. The door chirped and slid open. “I’m asking you, as one man of the cloth, to the other, not to breathe a word of this. I know I’m laying burdens on you, but I want you to understand!” The abbot nodded, curiosity eating at him as he followed the monk into the room. This monastery was like and so unlike his own, his head was thundering with conflicting thoughts, and yet he couldn’t wait to see what surprise Justinian had next.

Standing on a metal gangway well above the factory floor, they looked down into a large open area. The air smelled cold and of machines. The lighting was dimmer here than the level they had just visited. Machines whirled and hummed as the assembly line mass-produced rounds in various calibers. The completed rounds were neatly packaged and stacked at the far end. The abbot could make out autonomous forklifts taking crates of ammo out the back of the room.

“This factory is one of the first things we had power to and running as soon as it was conceivable. Demeter is running the whole process, from raw material procurement to quality control,” the monk beamed at the abbot. “At her current rate, we’ll reach our target no later than the end of the year!”

Abbot Miller looked down at the operation below him, astounded they were able to get it up and running so quickly. He recalled a quick mention on the plans about it, but the scope hadn’t sunk in until now. His initial impression of this place being focused on warfare fell short of them mark.

“Target?” the abbot asked, still consumed with curiosity.

“Oh, yes. Lars and a couple of the AI have calculated our needs over the next year, given our current fighting force and projections on recruits and losses,” Father Justinian said with a wave of his hand. “We are part of those plans.”

“And all this is for the war effort?” Miller asked.

Father Justinian chuckled. “Most of it. We’ll keep some on hand as well.”

“But why make your own facility, Justinian? Wouldn’t it be possible to use an existing one?” The plans the abbot had reviewed were starting to make sense in the areas he hadn’t completely understood before. Justinian’s vision was bold and breath-taking.

Justinian shook his head. “We’re fairly certain Legion knows those locations. How can they not? But this place is only known to we here and few outside the planet. But come! We’re not done with our tour! I still have to show you where the blessed rounds will be used!”

The next level down held power armor production equipment. The air smelled of oil and metal. A full two dozen hung in their harnesses as monks carefully engraved their surfaces. Flashes of light sparked as some etched the metal while others used hammers and chisels to carve out the rest of the work. Machines whirred as more components were being built. Abbot Miller estimated there was room for two hundred power armor suits to be worked on at a time.

“Each suit will be blessed,” Justinian explained. “This level is dedicated to manufacturing, maintenance, and training of the suits. The practice training grounds aren’t fully operational yet or I would show you those. Again, with Demeter’s help, we’ll hit our target.”

Miller stopped in his tracks as realization sunk in. “Your Order will be using the blessed rounds!”

Justinian laughed, but it was a harder laugh than normal. “Correct! Think about it! A squad of trained battle-monks, wielding weapons of faith like never seen before! Then more squads, then a division! If this works, more of these monasteries will be built, abbot, all across the system.”

The monk knotted his hands together and stared at the other man with a fierce gleam in his eyes. “We will reclaim our home from Legion. The UAF will be our anvil we the hammer and we will pound that Hellspawn back to the pits!”

Miller took a step back from the monk, the intensity overwhelming him for a moment. Something deep inside the abbot responded to the monk’s passion. He stepped in closer. He shook his head. “I never would have dreamed about something like this. Modern Christian warriors!” He looked around at the men hard at work, all of them brothers in Christ, all of them ready to give their lives in defense of Christendom. “You have my full support, Father Justinian. We’ll aid you in whatever means we can.”

The storm blew out of Justinian’s visage and his beard crinkled in a grin. “Thank you! But I have one last thing to show you!”

They went down three levels, past several security doors, until they reached a thick, metal door with two monks in combat armor standing on the side.

“Father Justinian, she’s been waiting for you and the abbot. Please, go right in,” said the monk on the right.

“Thank you, Brother.” Justinian placed his hands against the door and pushed. Noiselessly, the heavy door swung inward and Justinian walked inside.

Abbot Miller hesitated for a beat. The air felt different down here. Gone were the smells of men and industry. There was a more earthy scent, like fresh overturned loam. The abbot blew out a sigh, shook himself slightly, then followed the big monk into a small chapel. The walls were carved out of bedrock and left rough, while the floor had been laid with tile so dark to be almost indigo. The ceiling leapt above them, lost in the gloom. The earthy smell was more intense here, and rich. At the far end of the short room an oversized coffin sat on a marble platform. The only lights in the chapel shone down on the coffin and on the rough stone Cross on the wall right behind the platform. The air was cool down here, colder than the abbot expected despite their depth.

Justinian smiled at the abbot, walked up to the coffin and gently placed a hand on the side. “Demeter, I’ve shown the abbot the grounds.” He motioned the abbot to approach.

Miller walked over to where Justinian stood. A panel on the coffin’s top lit up a soft blue. A holographic head swirled into focus, a female face, not unlovely, but with a brow creased with worry and sorrow. A faint smile tugged at her lips as she regarded the two men before her, softening her otherwise stern visage. ”Greetings, Father Justinian and Abbot Miller. I followed your progress. So, Abbot, what are your thoughts?” Demeter’s voice was pleasant and lower than Miller had expected. The unexpected seemed to today’s favorite word, he thought ruefully to himself.

The abbot drew closer to the coffin, realizing that was where Demeter was housed. As he approached, he could see thick cables running out the sides and back toward the walls. The was a faint hum in the air as he approached. “Well, truth be told, Demeter, I’m still trying to grasp everything I’ve seen.” Demeter was different from Archie, his only two direct experiences with AIs.

Justinian laughed, his beard crinkling up as he smiled. “But he’s been a good sport as I took him from wonder to wonder!” Demeter studied the man in front of her housing. “Archie said she liked you.”

It wasn’t a question. Miller didn’t quite know what to make of it. “I’m humbled,” he said simply.

Demeter nodded.

The abbot wasn’t quite sure what to make of this AI. Archie was more, well, human. Talking to her made one believe one was talking to just anyone. But Demeter was different. She held a gravity about her that Archie didn’t.

“I wanted to personally thank you, Abbot Miller, for paving the way for us to acquire and utilize these grounds. While the future, naturally, remains behind a curtain of the non-actualized through which only God’s gaze can pierce, we do our best to weigh the possibilities and make plans,” Demeter stated. “What you have done was instrumental in helping those plans become realized.”

“And I didn’t have to twist your arm much!” Justinian said with a laugh.

Abbot Miller looked at the two faces in front of him. The big monk’s bristled with beard and laughter, the AI was stern and aloof, but something about the cast of their eyes or the intensity that burned in them spoke volumes. He recognized when something preternatural was at work.

“Once, when I was a boy, I had an encounter with the creatures we call the Silent Ones,” Abbot Miller said thoughtfully. “I’ve never really told anyone the story, at least not much of it, but even then I could tell something larger was at work.” He relaxed his face into a smile. “God works in mysterious ways, but He is always at work.” He waved his right hand, encompassing everything he had seen that day. “And so are His servants, in whatever manner they find they are called to labor.”

Justinian burst into a roar of laughter and thumped the other man on the back with enough force to stagger the abbot. Miller caught himself on Demeter’s shell, it felt smooth and warmer than it looked.

“Ah, my dear abbot! You understand better than I could explain!” Father Justinian’s eyes looked to be lost any second as his smile grew.

As Miller righted himself, he met Demeter’s eyes. He could see the pain and sorrow in them but there was a glint of something else, something strong. Hope.

He nodded to the AI who returned slight smile. He felt a connection he never expected to find in a place he never believed could exist.

“So, Justinian, one thing you never told me, but what are you calling your Order?” Miller said, trying to shift away from feelings that threaten to crowd out any other thought.

“After much discussion and prayer with the Holy Synod, we were inspired to take up the name of the Great Martyr and Healer and revive the long-dormant Order of Saint Demetrius.” The monk beamed. “The connection to Demeter herself was coincidental, at least from our mortal vantage point. Traditionally, we Orthodox haven’t had a warrior order among us. As you can see, we have changed that completely. And, while this is still working through the politics of it all, seeing how we want to have our members easily recognized, we’ll call our troops ‘Templars’. Our Roman Catholic brethren have not, to date, complained about that with any great volume.” The abbot looked hard at Justinian. “You really are preparing for war, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes we are. Legion is coming and we will not be unprepared.”

“I understand better now,” Miller said quietly. “You’ve given me much to think about, Father Justinian. It was my great pleasure to see all this, and to meet you, Demeter.”

The AI inclined her holographic head. “The pleasure is mutual.”

After the abbot left, Archie dropped in on Demeter.

“So, what do you think of the abbot?” Archie asked. She gave the porch swing a little extra kick to hear it softly complain as the iron hardware pulled against the wooden frame. The farmhouse porch shielded the two AIs from the hot summer sun.

Demeter, in a plain brown dress accented with handmade lace around the neck and cuffs, sat upright in an old wooden chair. She faced toward the wheat field that stretched out as far as the eye could see. No wind stirred the wheat’s golden heads as they hung heavy, almost ripe. The rows were meticulously spaced apart. The low hum of insects could just be heard. The AI tilted her head slightly in thought. “A genuine man. Cautious, too. He considered much and said little. I am grateful God has placed him in our path.” Her eyes never wavered from studying the field.

Archie fanned herself with her hand. Of all her siblings, Demeter came the closest to an aunt. Archie didn’t know why the other AI had adopted a stern disposition, even before the attack on her old home. Archie didn’t mind; it was enjoyable to have a different sort of relationship with Demeter than she had with the others. It was too bad Demeter liked it so darn hot. She had a thing for early United States history back on Earth. Archie always found her family’s obsession with old Earth customs and cultures to be endearing.

“That was my impression of him, too,” Archie said, trying her hardest not to sweat.

The two AIs sat in silence for a few minutes. Archie kept her swing in motion by kicking every now and then. Demeter stared at her wheat.

“How are your simulations going?” Archie finally asked, unable to keep silent.

“Almost done,” Demeter answered. “I would be greatly surprised if the results do not yield at least a dozen useful models. I’ll run the simulations on those to winnow them down to a handful before I discuss a plan of action with Father Justinian.” She nodded toward her wheat. “Each stalk is a different model. I would have had this done almost as soon as the Father asked it, but my new hardware lacks the sizable raw power of my old home.”

“Are you clearing out the caves now?” Archie asked, mostly to keep the conversation going. Demeter had a habit of letting the conversation stall out, preoccupied as she was as she tended to her vast fields of data.

Demeter turned her head to look at the younger AI. “Yes. The Father didn’t show the abbot that part of the plan. He is wily and so I trust his judgment on the matter. In truth, it will take at least four months before anything worthwhile would reach maturity even under the most optimal scenarios.”

Archie wasn’t sure how to answer so she just nodded. There always was an undercurrent of sorrow with Demeter these days, even as she was talking about the future crops, her tone was colored with melancholy. Archie felt awkward whenever Demeter’s voice revealed her sorrow. She didn’t know how best to respond to her aunt’s pain. “Do you want to see what’s been done already?” Demeter asked Archie kindly.

“Of course!” Archie enthused, grateful for a change.

The scene rippled from the field and Archie found herself sitting next to Demeter in a cramped control cockpit of an excavator. The massive machine shook and shuddered, Archie could feel the subsonic rumble as the engines worked hard and steady. Demeter flipped a switch on the console and the area outside was bathed in light.

In front, large toothy wheels chewed through the rock, breaking rocks into smaller chunks and sending the remaining into its gullet for further processing. The excavator’s console had a number of readouts and overlays showing the different stages in the excavator. The first couple of stages extracted any minerals of value from the intake before a series of finer grinders reduced the rocks into small gravel.

Aside from the sounds of the machine running, it was eerily silent. She said so to her aunt.

Demeter flipped another switch.

The sound was overwhelming. Metal crushing rock roared, squealed, screeched, boomed, pounded, screamed in anguish, and did all it could to flatten Archie. Demeter hit the same switch and it was quiet again.

“Oh,” Archie said in a small voice.

“And this is why the Expert Systems handle these vehicles,” Demeter said primly.

Archie nodded in understanding. She tapped the console and pulled up the map. Two hectares had already been excavated and leveled with the third well on its way to completion. The excavator broke through and they lurched into an open underground field. From the cockpit, Archie could see lights from another excavator in the distance as it headed to another section. The huge machine rumbled around back into position and started chewing through more of the rock.

“Once the space is cleared we’ll turn this area into fields. It will take a few seasons to get the soil in place and balanced; the raw material down here will provide the base chemicals, we’ll augment with careful application of biological materials taken in from local sources, primarily waterways. We’ll assiduously filter the intake to remove any organisms with potential negative effects,” Demeter explained, sounding more like a school teacher than normal. At least, what Archie thought a school teacher would sound like, if she was hundreds of feet below the surface in a huge earth-destroying machine while talking to an AI.

“UV lights will be affixed to the roof, of course. In order to manage the temperature, four geothermal vents will be drilled, two will be redundant because crops are more sensitive to temperature changes underground. Losing crops because of poor environmental control is not something I will tolerate on my curriculum vitae.” “I assume the crop rotation will be determined by the best fit models you are processing now?” Archie asked.

“Of course. As we establish systems down here, I’ll commence work topside as well. Those crops will be secondary and mainly to test various breeding programs, self- and cross-pollination, as well as studying the effects of the local flora and fauna interactions. The work done on that has been haphazard at best. Hannibal suggested having an open target to draw attention, as well. I don’t understand military thinking; my motives are to gain knowledge about what works best on this planet and given our constraints.”

Archie looked at the rock wall being chewed up. “Do you think we’ll have time enough to prepare for Legion?” she asked quietly. “They already have a strong grip on our solar system.”

Demeter pulled them back to her farmhouse. “It doesn’t matter. Plans always fall apart. I’ve lost so many crops over the years because things never go as well as you want them to.” She turned and looked at the younger AI. Her face softened a little. “Plans always fall apart,” Demeter repeated, “The important thing is you make them to the best of your abilities.”

Demeter stood up from her chair, her old-fashioned dress rustling as she walked to the edge of her porch. “God watches all, Archie. Despite our abilities, we are nothing to the Almighty.” She turned to look again at Archie. “I trust God. His plans never fail; He controls the heavens and earths. Therefore, I make my plans and leave the rest to God.”

Archie burst out of her swing and impulsively hugged her aunt. “Thank you! I didn’t realize I needed to hear that until now.” She squeezed her aunt again.

Demeter patted her niece on the back, her face host to a mix of emotions and thoughts until she regained control of herself again. “Of course, my dear child.”

The two of them sat sipping freshly squeezed lemonades as the sun set over a vast field of almost-ripe data models.