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“Yet you are wearing it in the Core, my goodman. How could I bear such a slight to me, and to an office which I hold in such high esteem? To do so would curl my cock with indignity.”

It’s a clever move by Ajax, and a credit to how bright he is. It allows Diomedes a way out, at a toll. Diomedes recognizes it and pays willingly. He removes his cloak and folds it in his hands.

Ajax spoils his victory and loses the respect of all but sadists by ripping the cloak from Diomedes’s hands and pissing on it. Then Ajax seals up his pelvic armor and looks at me.

Do you defend him?

With Ajax, you’re either with him or against him. Today, I cannot afford the latter, and recognize the social stratagem he uses now. It is called Requisite Disrespect, a protocol of the Dancing Mask. One of Atalantia’s favorite ploys.

“Are you quite done, Ajax?” Kalindora asks with a sigh.

Ajax wipes his hands on Diomedes’s homespun tunic. “Quite.”

Seraphina has had enough. She steps forward, hand on kitari, stopped only by a quiet click of her brother’s tongue. Whatever that click means, she takes it very seriously.

Ten Obsidian Stained make a guttural sound as they lower their axes. But Ajax and the Core Golds simply watch like a row of patient crocodiles. Now they know there is some hot blood in the Rim after all. Whether it is in an hour or five years, they will exploit it, either collectively or individually.

I warned Diomedes.

“By Juno’s cunt, your catamite is sensitive, Raa,” Ajax purrs, playing it off as a farce instead of a temperament reconnoiter.

“My sister is merely stretching after her long journey,” Diomedes replies.

“Sister? Sister?” Ajax asks. “But where are the tits? Do you now sear them off like Sefi’s winged lesbians?”

“No, but on the Rim, we geld unctuous Obsidians,” Seraphina replies. “Step closer, gahja. I’ll muster a tutorial.”

Ajax bows in amusement at the invitation. “Perhaps later, cousin. But for now, I believe Kalindora is at her wit’s end with me. Apologies, of course. It is just so exciting to have Raa back in the fold. The last ones were too short-lived.” With large stepping motions, he mocks how a Julii boot famously stomped Diomedes’s and Seraphina’s elder sister to death. Then he throws an arm around me and motions the Raa to follow. “Welcome to the Ash Legions.”

“OPERATION VOYAGER CLOAK IS LIVE,” I tell the cluster of officers who gather in the mess hall of the construction site. Glirastes has been removed, bound for Heliopolis, where he’ll be under guard until the operation is complete. Those who remain are engineering Legates, Blue flight commanders, and cocky sky rangers, all veterans of at least two campaigns. Reliable, in other words. Harnassus sits in stony silence. “You have been laboring in darkness. The details of Voyager Cloak have been compartmentalized for security reasons. Allow me to paint the full picture.

“What you know: Atalantia is meticulous. After our little dance in the graveyard, she has cleared the debris field and the mines. Mercury is fully blockaded. She has tactical and numerical superiority—likely two to one on the ground. From her position she can destroy any ship that attempts to breach orbit, and launch a Rain to reinforce any point on the planet within twenty minutes. Our ability to respond pales in comparison. Effectively, this gives her the ability to flank any of our units at leisure. Our shields are our only advantage. As long as they are up, she has no artillery support and will not risk landing ground elements. If our shield chain falls, we lose. Full stop.

“Once she has destroyed us, she will turn her eyes on the Republic. Some of you believe we should hold tight for reinforcements from Luna.” I avoid looking at Harnassus. It isn’t time to dress him down. “Let me dispel that notion. If reinforcements come, Atalantia will know and launch an invasion on her terms before they can arrive. By that time, the Fear Knight will have already taken steps to weaken our position in ways we cannot counter. They will have the initiative and the sky. Again, we lose.

“We cannot retreat, we cannot surrender, we cannot attack, we cannot wait. Our only option is to define the terms of engagement. We will invite them in.” They lean forward.

“The tanks and infantry meant for Mars, Luna, and Earth will die here on Mercury.”

I am proud that the officers do not flinch.

Any illusions of rescue that my return might have awoken now dispel.

I cannot wave my hands and whisk them back to Mars.

This is no tale of salvation, it is one of sacrifice. This is our Thermopylae.

“What you don’t know: Several nights ago, the first stage of Operation Voyager Cloak went into effect when the Fear Knight shot down a blacksparrow east of the Hesperides. On board was a corpse planted by Howler intelligence agents with a dataStack of intelligence information regarding a vulnerability within our shield chain.

“It appears the Fear Knight has taken the bait. As we speak, he is being herded by the Howlers toward Eleusis, which, once destroyed, will lead to a chain-overload of shield generators, creating a small gap south of Pan in the Plains of Caduceus that Atalantia will find impossible to resist.

“The terrain is perfect landfall. It is flat enough for her tanks. Dry enough for her titans. Wide enough to land ten legions at a time. And in perfect position to split our northern forces, overrun our defenses on the Children on the Petasos Peninsula with aerial infantry, and roll tanks westward down the coast to hit Tyche.

“That landfall is our killbox. It is mined with atomics, surrounded by two hidden army groups supported by six of our ten remaining torchShips and Red Reach base. When Atalantia’s army lands there, it will be annihilated from three sides. She will retreat along the only route available: south into the Waste of Ladon. They say that desert eats armies. I mean to feed it another.”

They grin and wait for the reason they’ve been gathered four hundred klicks north, barred from the field of battle by an entire sea.

“Why then are you here?” I take a moment to look each of them in the eyes. “You are not part of Operation Voyager Cloak. The men and women in this room will form BlueReach Seven, under direct command of Orion from BlueReach One, off the coast of Tyche. If all else fails, you are my insurance policy. You are Operation Tartarus.”