They pass through increasingly heavy layers of security, the doors thicker, the stenciled warnings bigger, the stripes bolder and brighter. Each time the guards snap to attention and they’re ushered through with no fuss. Eventually they ascend silver steps that wind up the side of a control hub and through a doorway into the pod of the command center.

On the other side is black-paneled, glass-walled space solid with tension. Techs and other useful grunts buzz from glowing screen to glowing screen, faces serious and businesslike. No saints, refreshingly enough: the fewer white saints in Misery’s life, the better.

In the middle of it all lies a massive video plaza, aglow with blue light, a cold sun around which all attention in the room orbits. It projects a miniature of Angelsteeth Base and the space around it, sequined with stars. Around it stand several figures in red mesh suits shot through with white—captains’ uniforms. One of them looks up as the General’s entourage approaches, and Misery’s heart skips with the force of sudden recognition. She knows who this is. War hero, decorated paragon, one of the great lights of the Faithful. Sunyata Diamond. Ship’s captain. She/her pronouns. Destroyed a Heretic ship a half-dozen years ago, an unparalleled feat, and then vanished from public view, as those who gain some notoriety tend to. It’s not very Churchlike to revel in the spotlight. Has she been on Angelsteeth all this while?

Captain Sunyata Diamond says, “Who are they?”

“Honored guests,” says the General. “You know one among them, at least?”

The captain sweeps her gaze across their number and her expression tightens with realization. “My lady,” she says to the princess. “I did not see you at first.”

The princess says nothing. Already the General is taking charge of the situation, demanding reports of the other captains and getting them. Captain Sunyata Diamond returns to working form, sparing only the tiniest of frowns for Misery, who is surely the only one of the lot she does not recognize. But there are status reports to be made. The squads are being loaded. The turrets are primed. They’re tracking the Heretic seraphs.

Misery’s pulse quickens as she leans into the glow of the vid plaza. Heretic seraphs! She knows the adversaries stole clutches of holy mechs ages ago, twisting gifts from the Larex Forge to their own purposes, but she never thought she’d live to see them in action. In the plaza the mechs are rendered as pulsing lilac dots, three of them streaking slowly toward the base. It’s driving Misery crazy that she can’t see what they look like.

A swarm spills out of the ersatz base: deadly confetti marked in red, blue, and yellow. “Are these our servings? What’s happening?”