For the moment, the General’s looking at her with the force of unbearable hope. They’re no nixen given to flights of fancy, and they’ve built a career on being practical and ruthless when the situation calls for it. On their own, they would never have presumed to think that the Larex Forge Hirself would intervene in such a direct fashion, for Zie had not sent humanity a Messiah since the First Eight, who were called to be beacons and wayfinders for the Faithful. Yet how could they deny what had just happened here? The news out of the Capital was right. They have witnessed it for themself.

The tides of war are about to change.

Frankly, Misery can’t fully parse the joy she’s reading from the General’s face. She needs more context to decrypt meaning from the scraps she’s getting. But she’ll take the victory for now. The General trusts her. They think she’s an important asset.

She’s alive, and that’s what matters.

INTERLUDE 4

Angelsteeth Base exists in a cradle of secrecy, within and without. The denizens of the Faithful know of its existence, of course: the fabled training academy where seraph pilots are made. Heroes of the Empire, the holiest of holy warriors. Chosen of the chosen. Held in apex esteem even by those blessed with sainthood by the Forge. This sanctified, legendary military base lives in their imaginations as a cornucopia of golden floors and holy light. The reality of the station’s day-to-day is opaque to them. What they would find would disappoint and shock them in equal measure, I’m sure. Disappointment? Because Angelsteeth is, after all, a military base, and the military life does not lend itself to glamour. Bare floors and recon food and three forms to fill up for every request made. The fancies of the Faithful, febrile and sticky, would melt under the pebbly weight of reality. It’s nothing unexpected.