“Then it is decided,” says the General. “We shall move upon the siege of Monkglass.”

CHAPTER 27

The command center is packed with the forty-eight captains of the seraph servings, and the commanders of the other divisions. The whole banquet of Angelsteeth will be involved. A buffet of data sprawls across the length of the table, captures and images and charts. Ono Red-2 has scattered across the breadth of the room, obtrusive in their baggy number twos beside the pressed, heavyweight uniforms of the upper brass. Major Reyes resisted the serving’s inclusion in this meeting, but Misery said: “We are a team and we attend together, or not at all,” and the General agreed with her, so that was the end to that. Ghost hangs on the periphery with birdlike alertness; Tank leans over the smorgasbord of information, features blanched by light, glasses rimmed with yellow reflection. And then there’s Spider and Diamond, hip to hip, huddling as though for warmth.

Between that midnight gathering and now, Diamond has been told about Esse Temple. General Tsung did the dirty work, hedging on their long shared history to cushion the blow. From Diamond the news trickled down to Spider. Their faces shine with the light of their new knowledge. Spider is easy to read, aglow with the simple fires of rage. Primitive and uncompromising emotion. Diamond’s renewed resolve is a little more complex. Joy, gratitude, but also a measure of sadness. Still unsure of her worthiness in her role. Doesn’t matter. Misery has what she needs.

“This is what we know of the situation at Monkglass.”

Major Reyes makes a wide gesture and the diagram of the besieged station expands, a knot of holystone and metal with a loose shell of purple netting, surrounded by an asteroid scatter of yellow dots. An overlay of tabs and infoboxes blink on and off in concert with the movement of Misery’s head. It would be distracting, if she were susceptible to distraction.

“It has been over two dozen years since the last major siege,” the major says. “This model is scraped from the old data and current drone skims. It’s a guess, but the best one we can make.” Pointing to the dense lilac parked around the station like an orbital shell: “Here, the primary siege mechanism. Approximately two dozen Heretic ships project a baffling sphere that blocks all transmissions, both ways. Don’t know how they do it. Communications with Monkglass have been cut off for the past two months. Every scout flight has come into contact with this.” Finger stabbing at the yellow pinpricks. “Seraphim. Estimate at least a dozen. Too dangerous to handle. We lost six scouts before the Throne pulled back on sending them. Since then, nothing. Blackout.”