General Tsung stands with their arms crossed; the heft of a dozen contradictory joys and worries weighing upon them. “We are tasked to raise the siege upon this station, but we cannot launch an attack with this little information. I cannot simply send troops into a situation where we know neither the numbers nor the nature of the enemy.”

“But we’ve done that twice now—and won,” Tank says, with all the fearlessness of youth. “Surely, if we all pitch in, we could—”

“Luck,” Major Reyes growls. “We got lucky. Two times. Third time, maybe not so lucky. Don’t overestimate our abilities.”

“Or underestimate theirs,” Diamond says. Heat fissures the vowels of her words. “The commander of this siege is a war criminal. A monster. Mortal decency is not something she knows. She cares nothing for the cost of human lives.”

“Esse Temple is an enemy unlike any we’ve faced,” the General says. The table’s light ages them, highlighting the weight gathered under their eyes. “Her actions are unpredictable. We cannot model for that.”

Tank slaps both hands on the table. All of fourteen and unfazed by her elders. “If we can’t model for that, then we don’t have to plan. If she’s that unpredictable, then all the planning in the cosmos will be useless. We have might with us. We have the Faithful’s brightest with us.” Finger flung out, tip angled at Diamond. “Most of all we have the mandate of the Larex Forge with us. Isn’t that enough?”

The room goes extremely quiet in the wake of her outburst. Then the General laughs, a belly-deep sound that shakes their frame. In the wash of that sound the tension in the room drops, and some even join in with laughter. Isn’t it absurd? It is absurd. They’ve been placed in an unbelievable situation. Who would have guessed that they would see a Messiah? Who would have guessed that they would be deep in conspiracy against the Throne, plotting a major operation behind the backs of the Emperor and his grandmother? It is madness, they’ve all gone mad.