New information was being uploaded to her mind, couched in the soft caress of an angelic voice. She learned this was the spot where an orbital transport called the Belle Trevois had crashed long ago. Those who had then died here had long since entered God’s embrace.

At least, once she was finished here, that was something for her to look forward to.

The loose and frequently contested border the Freehold shared with the Uchidans lay only seventy-five kilometres eastwards. The Freehold settlement of Port Gabriel lay-as Dakota’s Ghost informed her-only thirteen kilometres to the east.

The same direction from which she could see the line of vehicles now approaching.

A familiar tingle announced itself in the back of her thoughts. Chris Severn! He was still alive. Dakota grinned widely. He didn’t even need to verbalize anything for her to sense the same Holy Purpose he now also carried within him.

They were all in this together now, the legacy of Uchida having saved them from themselves. Dakota began to weep with sheer joy, the tears freezing instantly on her cheeks.

The first of the transports would be upon her in only a few minutes, but the road behind her was completely blocked by the crashed orbital transport. The approaching convoy appeared to be mostly made up of the kind of vehicles capable of leaving the road if they needed to, but for the moment Dakota stood between them and the next Freehold settlement lying to the west.

She glanced again at the vandalized statue and felt nothing but revulsion for what had been done to it.

From the direction of the nearest plumes of smoke staining the sky, three figures approached across the plains. All three, she sensed, were machine-heads, Chris Severn among them. Eventually he raised his hand and waved to her. Dakota raised her own hand and yelled back a greeting, her mouth opening wide in a happy smile under her breather mask.

She could hear the grumble of engines getting closer. The leading ground transport must by now have seen the way was blocked. The line of vehicles behind it straggled back maybe a couple of kilometres, and there weren’t therefore as many as she’d first thought. Maybe a dozen in all, but really big vehicles: huge multi-tiered things with balloon wheels. She saw one in the distance carefully roll off the road, and slowly start making its way south-west.

As the approaching machine-heads jogged quickly towards her, the first transport began to slow on reaching the crash site, its silver carapace gleaming under the bright sun. She could see silhouettes of people in the wide windows pointing towards her and gesticulating. They looked like an average cross-section of Freeholders: men, women and a substantial number of children.

In the distance, the angel appeared once more, sword in hand, striding across the horizon in the direction of Port Gabriel. Its robes and face were hazy with distance. Dakota glanced to the side and saw the other machine-heads had seen it too.

The angel spoke to her.

‹What is your name, child? ›

Dakota, my Lord.

‹Tell me, where are the rest of the Freeholder forces? And how many Consortium personnel are aboard the ships currently in orbit? ›

Dakota tried to consult her Ghost circuits, but they weren’t responding normally. Loud, angry, pleading voices burst through on one of the mil-comms frequencies, momentarily drowning out her thoughts and stridently demanding her obedience.

She decided she didn’t want to listen to what they had to say, and cut them off.

I don’t know, she replied. I don’t know. I… I can’t find out.

‹You must tell me! I-What?›

Lord?

There was a sound rather like a muffled conversation somewhere inside Dakota’s head. One of the voices was clearly that of the angel, and it was arguing with someone.

Something… something wasn’t right. Dakota moaned and clutched at her head.

‹We’re losing her.›

What? Dakota couldn’t figure out who had just spoken to her. She…

Bliss flooded her thoughts. Her determination to do right by her newly found faith was instantly restored.

‹Dakota.›

It was the angel speaking, again. Everything was all right once more.

‹Dakota, if you can’t tell us any more, then you have failed God.›

Stunned shock. What?

‹If there is nothing more you can tell us, then paradise is not yours, Dakota. Not now, and not ever, not in all eternity. ›

Dakota began to weep again, feeling as if her soul had been wrenched clean from her body.

‹You must tell us everything you know.›

But there wasn’t anything more to tell.

I’m sorry. I meant it when I said I couldn’t tell you anything else. I’m sorry. Please. I -

‹Then you will never know eternal life under God.›

Dakota collapsed to her knees. She hadn’t realized she could ever feel so bad, so lost.

What can I do?

‹Your only possible hope of salvation now lies in killing the enemy. You must kill them, Dakota. They can never know God, but you have a chance. So kill them all.›

People were spilling out of the nearest of the ground transports, which had veered diagonally across the road as it approached the wrecked orbiter. They wore the distinctive clothing of Freeholders, a mixture of bright oranges and dull greys, along with their ubiquitous breather masks. They looked confused and scared, and only a very few of them appeared to be armed. She had the feeling none of these were the aggressive warrior-types she had so far encountered: by contrast, they were just ordinary people. Those few who did carry arms came towards Dakota as she waited there in the middle of the road.

Lines of light occasionally bisected the sky over their heads, accompanied by the odd flash of light, as if tiny stars were being briefly born, and just as rapidly dying, far above their heads. A silent battle filled the Redstone sky, far above them.

Voices came through to Dakota again, her superiors at the Circus Ring ordering her to lay down her arms. She found it was getting easier, however, to tune them out.

One man stepped ahead of the rest of the Freeholders, a rifle gripped in both hands. Something in his demeanour convinced Dakota that he knew just now to use it. The rest trailed a little behind, obviously nappy to let him take the lead.

She walked towards him, forcing a smile. ‘We crashed,’ she called out as the distance between them narrowed. ‘Who are you? Are you people all right?’