He and the Holy Father and the squirming Pax Fleet admirals had pored over combat action reports, casualty lists, and tonnage losses for five years. The Raphael and its turncoat Captain de Soya had almost been captured or destroyed a score of times, but always had managed to escape to Ouster space, leaving behind scattered convoys, tumbling hulks, and shattered Pax warships. Pax Fleet’s failure to catch a single renegade archangel had become the shame of the Fleet and the best-kept secret in the Pax. And now it was going to end.

“Albedo’s Elements calculate a ninety-four percent probability that de Soya will rise to our bait,” said the Cardinal.

“It’s been how long since Pax Fleet and the Holy Office planted the information?” said the Pope, finishing his tea and carefully setting the cup and saucer on the edge of the settee.

“Five weeks standard,” said Lourdusamy. “Wu arranged for it to be encrypted in the AI aboard one of the escort torchships that the Raphael jumped at the edge of Ophiuchi System. But not so heavily encrypted that the Ouster-enhanced systems aboard the Raphael could not decipher it.”

“Won’t de Soya and his people scent a trap?” mused the man who had once been Father Lenar Hoyt.

“Unlikely, Your Holiness,” said the Cardinal. “We’ve used that encryption pattern before to feed reliable information to de Soya and…”

The Pope’s head snapped up. “Cardinal Lourdusamy,” he said sharply, “do you mean to tell us that you sacrificed innocent Pax ships and lives… lives beyond resurrection… merely to insure that the renegades will consider this information reliable?”

“Yes, Holy Father,” said Lourdusamy.

The Pope let out a breath and nodded. “Regrettable, but understandable… given the stakes involved.”

“In addition,” continued the Cardinal, “certain officers aboard the crew of the ship positioned to be captured by the Raphael had been… ah… conditioned… by the Holy Office so that they also had the information on when we plan to move on the girl Aenea and the world of T’ien Shan.”

“All this prepared months in advance?” said the Pope.

“Yes, Your Holiness. It was an advantage given us by Councillor Albedo and the Core when they registered the activation of the T’ien Shan farcaster some months ago.”

The Pontiff laid his hands flat on his robed thighs. His fingers were bluish. “And that escape has been denied the Devil’s Child?”

“Absolutely,” said the Cardinal. “The Jibril slagged the entire mountain around the farcaster portal. The farcaster itself is all but impervious, Your Holiness, but at the moment it is buried under twenty meters of rock.”

“And the Core is certain that this is the only farcaster on T’ien Shan?”

“Absolutely certain, Holy Father.”

“And the preparations for the confrontation with de Soya and his renegade archangel?”

“Well, Admiral Wu should be here to discuss the tactical details, Your Holiness…”

“We trust you to convey the general outline, Simon Augustino.”

“Thank you, Holy Father. Pax Fleet has stationed fifty-eight planet-class archangel cruisers within the T’ien Shan System. These have been hidden for the past six standard weeks…”

“Excuse us, Simon Augustino,” murmured the Pope. “But how does one hide fifty-eight archangel-class battlecruisers?”

The Cardinal smiled thinly. “They have been powered down, floating in strategic positions within the inner-system asteroid belt and the system’s outer Kuiper Belt, Your Holiness. Completely undetectable. Ready to jump at a second’s notice.”

“The Raphael will not escape this time?”

“No, Your Holiness,” said Cardinal Lourdusamy. “The heads of eleven Pax Fleet commanders depend upon the success of this ambush.”

“Leaving a fifth of our archangel fleet to float for weeks in this Outback system has seriously compromised the effectiveness of our Crusade against the Ousters, Cardinal Lourdusamy.”

“Yes, Your Holiness.” The Cardinal set his own palms against his robe and was surprised to realize that his palms were damp. Besides the eleven Pax Fleet heads riding on the success of this mission, Lourdusamy knew that his own future hung in the balance.

“It will be worth it when we destroy this rebel,” murmured the Pope.

Lourdusamy took a breath. “We presume that the ship and Captain de Soya will be destroyed, not taken captive,” said His Holiness.

“Yes, Holy Father. Standing orders are to slag the ship to atoms.”

“But we will not harm the child?”

“No, Holy Father. All precautions have been taken to assure that the contagion vector named Aenea will be taken alive.”

“That is very important, Simon Augustino,” muttered the Pope. He seemed to be whispering to himself. They had gone over these details a hundred times. “We must have the girl alive. The others with her… they are expendable… but the girl must be captured. Tell us again the procedure.”

Cardinal Lourdusamy closed his eyes. “As soon as the Raphael is interdicted and destroyed, the Core ships will move into orbit around T’ien Shan and incapacitate the planet’s population.”

“Deathbeam them,” murmured His Holiness.

“Not… technically,” said the Cardinal. “As you know, the Core assures us that the results of this technique are reversible. It is more the induction of a permanent coma.”

“Will the millions of bodies be transported this time, Simon Augustino?”

“Not at first, Your Holiness. Our special teams will go planetside, find the girl, and remove her to an archangel convoy that shall bring her here to Pacem, where she will be revived, isolated, interrogated, and…”

“Executed,” sighed the Pope. “To show those millions of rebels on sixty worlds that their putative messiah is no more.”

“Yes, Your Holiness.”

“We look forward to speaking to this person, Simon Augustino. The Devil’s Child or not.”

“Yes, Your Holiness.”

“And when will Captain de Soya take the bait and appear for his destruction, do you think?”

Cardinal Lourdusamy looked at his comlog.

“Within hours, Your Holiness. Within hours.”

“Let us pray for a successful conclusion,” whispered the Pope. “Let us pray for the salvation of our Church and our race.”

Both men bowed their heads in the Room of Tears.

In the days immediately following our return from the Dalai Lama’s Potala palace, I get the first hints of the full scope of Aenea’s plans and power.

I am amazed at the reception upon our return. Rachel and Theo weep as they hug Aenea. A. Bettik pounds me on the back with his remaining hand and hugs me with both arms. The usually laconic Jigme Norbu first hugs George Tsarong and then comes down the line of us pilgrims, hugging all of us, tears streaming down his thin face. The entire Temple has turned out to cheer and clap and weep. I realize then that many had not expected us—or at least Aenea—to return from the reception with the Pax. I realize then what a close thing it had been that we had returned.

We set to work finishing the reconstruction of Hsuan-k’ung Ssu. I work with Lhomo, A. Bettik, and the high riggers on the last touches to the highest promenade, while Aenea, Rachel, and Theo supervise detail work throughout the compound. That evening, all I can think of is turning in early with my beloved, and from our hurried but passionate kisses during our few minutes alone on the high walk after the communal dinner, I guess that Aenea reciprocates the wish for immediate and intense intimacy. But it is one of her scheduled “discussion group” evenings—her last as it turns out—and more than a hundred people are there in the central gompa platform as darkness falls. Luckily, the monsoons have held off after the first foretaste of their gray rain, and the evening is lovely as the sun sets to the west of K’un Lun Ridge. Torches crackle along the main axis stairways and prayer pennants snap.