Maybe, some dinner

Four days later

"Vega?" Father Alcor knocked against my door before opening it by just a crack. "Dinner is ready."

"Thank you, Father. I'm coming." I put the book on my nightstand and my feet on the floor. Despite being mobile for the better part of a day, I still took a deeper breath before I pushed myself out of bed. My hand reached for the gown I'd hung over my chair. I threw it over my shoulders without pushing my arms through the sleeves. The only thing missing was my slippers, which I think were lying in the bathroom.

It had taken more than a day to wake up after the battle. Father Alcor was there when I did. His hands were folded around mine as he was praying for my recovery. He burst into tears when I greeted him. The redness of his eyes suggested it wasn't the first time he had done so, and for the umpteenth time, I felt guilty at the stress I put him through.

But while I had woken up and even rid myself of the shadow people, my body wasn't ready to cooperate. It took two additional days before I could stand on my feet. Father Alcor visited me regularly during this time. Cymmand would visit as often as her schedule allowed. She would update me on Cerviel's repairs and the search for Nova.

Cerviel's damage was the most extensive she had suffered. More than seventy percent of Cerviel's armor plates had suffered damage. Half of it could not be repaired. This had the knock-on effect that all her motors would need to be re-calibrated. Some of the missile tubes had bent and would need be te repaired. The oxygen scrubbers and all motors in her left arm needed to be replaced. Only the personality core escaped damage.

Starting the repairs presented the engineers with another problem. I had passed outside the dome. While the engineers had managed to extract me from her cockpit with three minutes of oxygen to spare, fixing Cerviel outside the repair bays was difficult. It took them a day and a half to maneuver Cerviel into the hangar. With Cerviel out of commission and Valoel gone, Asbestos could only rely on the pulse cannons for defense. Cerviel needed to be repaired as soon as possible. Cymmand redirected some engineers from Valoel's crew to help. Even then, the estimates for a full repair remained over a week.

The search for Nova had been less fruitful. Reviewing the footage raised the likelihood of him being teleported away. The wide-beam scanners had detected something that could be Valoel, but the results were inconclusive. The engineers had tried to contact the anomaly without any response. Valoel's long-range antennas should have been able to reach out, so it was worrying.

That left Father Alcor and myself with nothing else to do but wait.

"Thanks." I eased myself into a chair. A yellow half-moon decorated with spices awaited consumption, and the smell of coffee entered my nose.

"Eat up." Father Alcor nodded from the other side of the table. "You would be wise to regain your strength."

"Yes." I extended my hand to his. While he took hold of mine, it took a second to realize I extended my left too. I wouldn't receive a touch from that direction. Father Alcor gave me a knowing look before he bowed his head. "Dear Lord in Heaven. We thank You for the meal You have blessed us with. We pray that our bodies use it to the Glory of Your Name and that You see it fit to reunite our family again. Amen."

"Amen." I echoed, nodding once before opening my eyes. Cutlery clattered against the plates as we cut into our omelets. Few words were spoken beween us. We focused our attention inward as we tried to think of any angle at which we could help. The conclusion was always the same. There was simply nothing we could do. Humankind might have colonized around fifteen percent of the Milky Way by this point, but that didn't change the fact that space was large.

"Did anything interesting happen today?" I asked between bites.

Father Alcor shook his head. "The heathens aren't going to listen, no matter what I say."

"The important thing is that you try." Father Alcor nodded. I bit down on another bit of omelet as I searched for something else to say. "I'm starting to feel normal again. My muscles are still sore, but I'm not seeing any shadows."

"I am glad for that."

"As am I."

The silence made Nova's absence even more noticeable. He would always have an interesting tidbit or a joke ready if a situation threatened to turn too serious. Steering a conversation lay outside my comfort zone. My place would be to listen and offer additional commentary if needed.

I'd give anything to have him reappear and call Father Alcor old again.

Please be safe. I glanced at the door. If Nova couldn't enter, maybe a knock from Cymmand or even Nurse Mira could bring some life to this atmosphere. I was left wanting.

"You may take your dinner in your room if you'd like." I returned my gaze to Father Alcor, who stared in my direction.

I shook mine in return. "Now isn't the time to be alone."

"Grieving is often done in solitude."

"I am not grieving, merely praying that Nova is alive."

"I see."

"Say, Father," He looked at me as I took a sip from my mug. "I have a question you might be able to answer." He didn't reply, but neither did he alter his gaze. "Cymmand and the others think our enemy is an alien species, whereas you think it's the denizens of Hell as foretold by the end times. Regress of who's correct, why do the demons only send in limited numbers? And why do they break off after every attack? Wouldn't it make sense to send all their forces and kill us all?"

"Hmm..." Father Alcor pressed his finger to his mouth as he swallowed. "I have often wondered that question myself. I can only speculate."

"Seems like a good evening to do so."

The old man nodded. "Going by scripture, I believe the demons we face could be divided into two categories. The first is the embodiment of humanity's sins. Greed, desire, murder, even something as simple as stealing a candy from the market, I believe you will find an embodiment of it somewhere within their ranks. But there is one thing all sins have in common. They're committed to the advantage of the one committing them. It is our selfish nature at work.

"The second category would be the fallen angels cast out of Heaven with the Dark Lord. But there is one thing everything respects, no matter who or what you are."

"Fear?"

"Strength. All sin is considered equal in the eyes of God. No hierarchy can exist within the ranks of demons. But the Dark Lord and his fallen angels are not bound by this restriction. They are magnitudes more powerful than the demons and can control them. The Dark Lord knows this. He divided his forces into ranks ranging from Knights to Kings of Hell. Each fallen angel, seventy-two of them if the myths are correct, has been given the ability to rule over a subset of demons, and each has created their legions accordingly. This gives the Dark Lord the army he uses to wage war against humankind.

But it also gives him a weakness. Demons are naturally chaotic, held in place only by the will of their ruler. They would revert to their feral nature if something happened to this ruler. So yes, the Dark Lord can send his forces in one major attack, but it is risky. While we are losing, we are still fighting back. The Dark Lord risks losing his forces if something happens to his fallen angels."

"If that's true, wouldn't humankind win if we can kill these fallen angels?"

"Going my scripture, only the might of God can banish the fallen angels. The Dark Lord will regenerate any who are defeated. But, I suspect there is a window between the fallen angel's demise and its revival. In this window, all demons whom the fallen angel had control over will revert to their nature. The Dark Lord knows this and will plan accordingly. He knows the potential for victory by sending all his forces exists, but he knows there is a risk.

"It would be wiser to send escalating attacks as part of the initial onslaught. The only risk would be the fallen angel, who can be revived. Should it be slain, the stray demons can be corralled by the others. But..." Father Alcor took a sip of his coffee. "Please bear in mind this is speculation and not holy writ."

"Have you told Cymmand or the Overseer of this?"

His face soured. "Many times. They have dismissed it as the ravings of a lunatic. The heathens believe it is an alien species humanity can overcome."

I smiled. " `Alien' means foreigner, so they're technically not wrong."

"But the origin and motivation behind the attack is wrong. As are the means they use to fight."

"It is only natural you use whatever tool you know best."

"Yet what makes humankind unique is the means to learn and improve ourselves. Those who refuse to learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Only this time, I fear our defeat will be final."

"Does Scripture not speak of redemption?"

"It also says the end times lay fraught with trials and tribulation." Father Alcor sighed. "They may be heathens, but we still have a relationship with them. Imagine how you would feel if your friend, Cymmand, dies."

It wasn't a happy thought. "I see."

"Death and destruction is painful to witness. That much is universal." A knock on the door interrupted Father Alcor's attempt to finish his coffee.

"I'll take a look." I moved to stand up, but the old man blocked me with a wave of his hand.

"Sit, child. Rest your bones for the fights that surely lie ahead." Father Alcor disappeared into the next room. I heard the door unlock shortly afterward. Father Alcor greeted the newcomer, but the responding voice was too soft for me to make it out. Maybe it was somebody who regularly listened to his sermons. He does not always encourage home visits, but there have been situations where he allowed them to happen. I'd assume the end of the world would warrant such a situation. I smiled at the thought, thinking I was doing the same thing. The advantage of being his adopted daughter, I guess.

"Come in." I moved to stand up but was frozen in place by his following words. "You'll find her in the kitchen."