47th Floor, Honghuang Administrative Palace, Phoenix District, Xing Hong

  The elevator opened onto a corridor that smelled of recycled air and expensive climate control. A functionary in the red-trimmed black uniform of the Prefect's office met them with a tablet and a professionally neutral expression.

  "This way, please. The others have arrived."

  Others.

  The conference room occupied a corner of the forty-seventh floor, its floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of Xing Hong. From here, Xin could see the entire city laid out like a circuit board: the orderly grids of Phoenix and Eagle Districts, the denser sprawl of Lion and Opera, and Dragon District's burning sector.

  The fire had spread since they'd left. Three blocks, maybe four. The orange stain was growing.

  People are dying, Xin thought, while we stand in this room with its expensive furniture and filtered air.

  Two men were already at the polished table.

  The first was built like a fortress. A Valoran, tall, broad-shouldered, with long brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His armor gleamed silver-white, bearing the geometric cross pattern Xin had seen in Covenant recruitment materials. A golden medallion rested against his chest, and his posture suggested military discipline tempered by something else. Faith, maybe.

  The second was younger, darker-skinned, with close-cropped hair and warm brown eyes that held a guardedness beneath their surface friendliness. His gray armor bore exotic spiritual patterns, and four small totems hung around his neck. A Moonstone Cutlass rested at one hip, a Kinetic Crossbow on his back.

  "Jabari," Xin muttered. "Of course."

  Both men looked up as Xin and Sigrun entered. Their gazes tracked to Sigrun first.

  Sigrun's hand twitched toward Járn. Just for a moment.

  Then Jabari smiled. But it was a careful smile.

  "Well, well. Somehow I knew you'd be summoned too."

  "I wouldn't be so excited about it." Sigrun's voice carried an edge that hadn't been there with Xin. "Last time we met, you were trying to kill me."

  "Technically, you ambushed me first." Jabari's smile didn't waver. "And then Fuuka and I drove you off. So who was trying to kill who?"

  "Perhaps we could postpone the grudge match until after the city stops burning?" The large Valoran man's voice cut through. British accent.

  "Marcus." Sigrun inclined her head, the gesture carrying no warmth. "Wasn't sure I'd look forward to meeting you again."

  "The feeling is mutual. Though I'll admit you fight better than most heretics I've faced." Marcus's jaw tightened. His hand moved toward his medallion.

  Xin watched the exchange with growing unease. These people had been trying to kill each other hours ago. Now they were supposed to work together?

  H?kon's head poked further out of his jacket, scales shifting to uncertain brown. The little Diabolisk could sense the tension even if he couldn't name it.

  Then Sigrun moved.

  Not toward Marcus or Jabari. She walked to the far end of the table, positioning herself with the Covenant soldier's bulk between her and—

  Xin followed her sightline.

  A broad, elderly Valoran man sat at the table's other end, massive in a way that suggested both physical presence and political weight. White hair swept back from a weathered face. His uniform bore the Alliance insignia: a navy blue maple leaf guarded by one eagle at each side. A lit cigar rested between his fingers, trailing smoke.

  Dante IV Pompeo. Delegate and Overseer of the Alliance Corporate Chamber. Xin recognized him from news broadcasts, from the political discussions that played in the background while he fed H?kon dinner.

  But Sigrun appeared to know him in a very different way. The way she'd positioned herself, the careful distance she maintained. There was something personal. Something she didn't want to acknowledge.

  She knows him, Xin realized. Knows him well enough to hide from him.

  The question of how would have to wait.

  At the head of the table, a woman rose.

  Dilinur Altai was smaller than Xin had expected from her reputation. Her black hair was styled in an elaborate traditional updo, and her black silk robe featured crimson accents. Authority without ostentation. Her pearl-like eyes swept across them.

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  There were shadows under Dilinur's eyes. And her hands, clasped before her, showed white at the knuckles. Xin could tell the Prefect was stressed but doing everything to supress her emotions.

  "Thank you for responding to the summons." Her voice carried no warmth but no coldness either. "Please, sit. We have limited time."

  A man stood slightly behind her—bald, Imperial features, dressed in black and gold that somehow managed to be both ornate and understated. His tablet glowed with incoming data. Kenji Tsudo, the seneschal.

  They took seats. Xin chose a position near the middle of the table, where he could see everyone. The city burned beyond the windows, close enough now that he could make out individual fires engulfing the Dragon District.

  "Pappa?" H?kon's voice was very small. "Scary big-people."

  Xin stroked his head. "It's okay. They're...we're all on the same side."

  "Are we?" Sigrun's words were flat yet somehow enough to cut.

  Dilinur pulled up a holographic map of the city, red markers clustering in Dragon District's eastern sectors.

  "Fenris Horde forces breached our outer perimeter approximately two hours ago. Confirmed Draug presence." Her eyes found Sigrun. "Including Batu Arnesen, a known Olympics sportman of the Imperium before his transformation."

  Sigrun's jaw tightened. Her hand moved toward Járn, stopped, moved back.

  "There are also confirmed sightings of Ysolde H?ggsson." Dilinur's voice remained level, but the strain showed in the corners of her eyes. "If she's here, then Skarn intends to conquer this city. For proliferation or other long-term goals."

  "We've suspected both Draugs' involvement in Fenris expansions on Mars for some time." Kenji added from the side, his stylus moving across his tablet. "This level of commitment suggests the attack was planned weeks in advance."

  Marcus's hand went to his medallion. "Zori have mercy on us. A coordinated assault of this scale does not happen every season."

  "City guards are holding defensive positions." Dilinur pulled up another display. Troop deployments. Casualty figures. The numbers kept climbing as they watched. "But they cannot sustain indefinitely."

  Jabari leaned forward. "You think the Fenris mobilized this heavy for something specific? Or someone?"

  "Impossible to say. I suppose there're ways to find out." Kenji replied. Xin noticed how the seneschal's eyes flicked to Sigrun.

  "The immediate concern," Dilinur continued, her voice tightening, "is reinforcement. Xing Hong's defensive forces were designed for internal security and incursions. We are not equipped to repel a coordinated Radi-Mon Horde assault." Her gaze moved to Dante. "Delegate Pompeo. I understand the Terra Alliance has military assets here on southern Mars. Mobilization is possible."

  Dante drew on his cigar. The ember flared orange in the room's filtered light.

  "Possible," he said. The word hung in the air, conditional and heavy. "But it'll cost you."

  Something flickered across Dilinur's face. Her hands, still clasped, went whiter at the knuckles.

  "Delegate. My city is burning. My people are dying while we sit in this room discussing this like business."

  "And my soldiers would die defending it." Dante's voice didn't rise, but it hardened. "The Terra Alliance is not a charity, Prefect. I can't offer their lives for free."

  It felt as though the room's temperature had dropped.

  "The Alliance has maintained forces on Mars for decades." Dante continued, tapping ash into a small tray. Unhurried. "We've offered partnership, military cooperation, economic integration. And Xing Hong has responded with tariffs, restrictions, and surveillance of our corporate operations. You've spent twelve years keeping us at arm's length while playing every faction against each other."

  "We maintained independence." Dilinur's voice had gone very controlled it bordered on cold. "That's not the same as hostility."

  "Independence." Dante almost smiled. "A lovely word. You got to profit from everyone while committing to no one. It means Alliance goods face import fees while Imperium merchants get preferential treatment in Dragon District. It means our military has no basing rights while Covenant missionaries operate freely in Opera District."

  "We have allowed Alliance mega-corporations to operate in Eagle District. We've granted them rights to modify local landlord-tenant laws as they see fit. Is that not enough?"

  "It's a start. Not enough." Dante leaned back in his chair. "You're asking me to commit Alliance soldiers—young men and women with families, with futures—to defend a city that's spent twelve years treating us as a threat to be managed rather than an ally to be embraced."

  Outside the window, something exploded in Dragon District. A column of fire rose, as if to echo Dante's statement.

  Dilinur's composure cracked for a brief moment.

  "Those are my people dying, Delegate. People. Children. Families." Her voice shook with something that might have been rage or grief or both. "And you seek to discuss, what, trade policy?"

  "I seek to discuss reality." Dante's voice remained steady. "You need us. You've always needed us. You just didn't want to admit it until your independence started bleeding."

  Silence followed.

  Xin found himself holding his breath. H?kon had gone very still against his chest, scales cycling through uncertain hues.

  Marcus's hand rested on his medallion. Jabari's eyes moved between Dilinur and Dante like a man watching a fuse burn toward powder.

  And Sigrun was watching Dante with an expression Xin couldn't read.

  "Pappa?" H?kon's whisper cut through the tension, sounding small and scared. "Why big-people angry?"

  Xin stroked his head automatically. "Well, they're...they're trying to help each other. It's complicated."

  "No sound like helping." H?kon's scales became an anxious brown. "Sound like fighting."

  The moment stretched. Dilinur and Dante faced each other across the polished table, the burning city reflected in the windows behind them.

  Then H?kon tugged at Xin's jacket.

  "Pappa? HAW-koon draw now. Is okay?"

  Every eye in the room turned to the small Diabolisk.

  A three-year-old Radi-Mon asking permission to color while adults argued over the fate of a city. What a strange rupture in the tension. As if the universe wanted to remind them.

  "Yeah. Sure." Xin's voice came out rough. "You can draw, buddy."

  He lifted H?kon carefully, setting him on a nearby desk that jutted from the wall. It appeared to be some kind of secondary workstation, currently inactive. From his plastic bag, Xin took out a tiny box of crayons and the coloring book.

  H?kon made a satisfied trill, immediately opening the book to a blank page with his tiny but agile claws. His scales cycled back toward calm blue as he clutched a blue crayon carefully.

  When Xin turned back, he found the room watching.

  Marcus was frowning, but the frown was softening into something more like bewilderment. Dilinur's hand had risen to her forehead. Jabari was grinning awkwardly.

  But Dante Pompeo had leaned forward in his chair.

  His cigar hung forgotten between his fingers, trailing smoke as his eyes stayed on the little Diabolisk for a long moment.

  H?kon's small blue form hunched over his coloring book, tongue poking out slightly in concentration, completely absorbed in choosing between blue and red crayons.

  Something shifted in the corporate hardness of the Alliance Delegate's expression.