were reminded of the holy beauty and grace that inhabited the Blessed One. And yea did the Blessed One take the battle standard and touch a corner of it to that which contained the spirit of the Anointed Man, the holy reliquary, and still was the war side covered. Then she brought the battle standard to her lips, and still the war side was covered. And yea she gestured, causing her emissary to the shadow realm to come forth, and taking her sash of office did also the emissary to the shadow realm touch it to the reliquary and it to her lips. And then did the holy brother blessed of God and respected by the Children of the Stars take a holy book and touch it to the reliquary and thus bring it to his lips. And yea it came to pass that all who came to wail and grieve did instead come forth and touch upon the reliquary their holy objects and recognize the miracle of God having called his Anointed Man back to him while leaving his garb and garments for the Children to find and treasure. And thus they were comforted. For they saw that God had not abandoned them in their Days of Ash. For then it was that the Blessed One took from the Barge of Death that crypt which held the Anointed Woman and thus did the Blessed One make the Anointed Woman’s body ready, and breathed upon her, and life was restored. And it was good.
The Astral Testament
Book III, 1:27–39
Day Twelve
J. D. Black was trapped by an enemy worse than all the ships of Trang’s fleet combined. It was an enemy that couldn’t be fought with any of the tools in her arsenal, or with any of the instinct and pluck that had served her so well in her many great victories. And over the course of mere weeks, it had grown more onerous and intractable. She was tempted to curse her god and then berated herself for the seeming lack of faith. Fawa would’ve known what to do. Fawa would’ve listened and felt and intuited. But Fawa was no longer among the living, and J.D. had no such patience. This new enemy was cruel indeed in that it demanded patience, insisted on submission. J. D. Black, Fleet Admiral of the Alliance, had been trapped by the immutable cumber of expectation.
In the eight days she’d been on Ceres, she’d come to the realization that the only thing standing between anarchy and order had been her presence alone. As if to prove the point, what was supposed to have been a simple and dignified ceremony marking the return of Alliance One and, with it, Justin Cord’s recovered space suit almost turned into a religious riot. She’d been expected at the ceremony and had planned on staying only long enough to watch the suit removed. However, from the moment of her arrival, it looked as if the crowd was going to tear one another to shreds getting to the suit, which had apparently taken on mythical proportions.
The frenzied mob had already surrounded the ship and a few were even storming the ramp. A small group of surprised and clearly nervous-looking assault miners were guarding the open hatch. This wasn’t the welcome-home ceremony they’d been anticipating. At that moment, J.D. had acted on impulse, marching with fierce determination toward the ship. Whether through the force of her nature or the four burly guards assigned her, the crowd gave quarter, and J.D. soon arrived at the base of the ramp where the Alliance One assault miners were still hemmed in. Now, at least, all that stood between her and the hatch were a dozen or so people crazy enough to put themselves directly in the sights of some pretty big guns and a contingent of miners who knew how to use them.
J.D. made a quick scan of the room and seized upon an idea. She signaled Captain Nitelowsen, still doggedly by her side, to bring her one of the Alliance’s battle standards, ceremoniously lining the walls of the loading dock. J.D. further ordered two of her guards to force a path for the captain while J.D. and what was left of her small group momentarily prevented the rest of the swelling crowd from