“Telepathy is real,” Ruin whispers in her head. The delusion has chosen not to manifest in this room. “But perhaps it’s not these saints you have to worry about.”

If only there were a prayer to banish delusions from the mind. Misery breathes: four in, six hold, seven out. None of the others seem bothered by the clone-saint’s presence, at least not outwardly. She has to stay calm.

It occurs to her: each serving should have four pilots. Who is the fourth among the strangers left in the room? The rest of them are too old, too highly ranked, or not saints. Unless—

The General says: “The final pilot you are familiar with, of course. You arrived on this station with her, after all.”

The Lady Lee Alodia Lightning, Imperial princess of the Faithful, sister to the Emperor himself. She stands stiff as a storm rod next to their serving captain, disapproval etched into her face. Pilot number four. Her lozenge of biodata is small and austere—privacy concerns, of course—but it does now say that she is a pilot. Just like the rest of them. If the Larex Forge has a plan, the plan is that they are to be colleagues. Misery’s emotions ricochet from disbelief, to horror, to dismay. Within the kaleidoscope of personae she’s encountered so far the princess strikes her as the biggest threat, and Misery can’t articulate why but knows herself well enough to trust her gut. Her instincts are good, tainted by the nullvoid as they are. Perhaps even because of that taint. After all, they say voidmadness is caused by overexposure to the raw fabric of reality. Too much truth drives you crazy.

“Didn’t think a scion of the Imperial family would serve on the front lines,” she says.

“Didn’t think so either,” says the princess. “But here we are.”

“And here we have been gathered by the auspices of the Larex Forge,” says General Tsung. “Whatever Hir plan for us, we have a duty to keep moving forward. Your training begins tomorrow. Let’s not waste any time. Yes?”

“Well,” says Misery, lying, “I for one look forward to it.”

CHAPTER 11