Hi. One of the last few chapters. It really is a relief to have nearly reached the end of this story, and I can sit back and relax for a while. Feye, I was saying you probably wouldn't want me to submit a Terry Brooks Fic because it looks like I am following you around. Hmm. Yes, well.

Oh, and just asking a question of Joshua: Do you find it really difficult to read my fic? No, I don't mean difficult, just. Strange. Reading your fic, it is almost completely the opposite of mine. The antagonist and protagonist have been totally switched around. I find it quite fun. I still hate Zakharov thought. Well, I hate my Zakharov, and I hate your Deirdre. I love your Zakharov, and love mine. Does that make sense? Hmm. I am waffling. Sorry. Just enjoy this chapter.

Oh, and please don't laugh at my last line. It isn't how it sounds, believe me.



"Reverend Mothers, ready your units, and attack. All troops must attack. Not an inch of ground shall be surrendered. It is Christianity itself which we defend today, and the Lord shall be with us."

The young women nodded, and readied their chaos guns. Although most Believing troopers had mere machine guns, the leaders of the squads had all been equipped with chaos technology. Anything to keep New Jerusalem from falling into the hands of the enemy.

A crackling transmission came through, and onto the screen flashed a young priest, out in the streets of New Jerusalem. Gaian tanks whirred as they attacked, and the few pieces of artillery left were firing incessantly at the University forces as they advanced. Every piece of mechanized machinery was being utilized, even the cumbersome and weak Former units, thrown towards the enemy in an attempt to mow them down.

Quite often the Believing units simply activated their self-destruct sequences, killing many of the attackers. Yet nothing seemed as if it were enough. Traps and bombs had been planted, but the sheer numbers of University-sworn troops just shrugged off the loss of life, as if it were nothing.

"Sister Miriam, Sister Miriam! We have lost St Paul's District, and our men in St Brigit's seem ready to run. What shall we do? The enemy are everywhere!"

Miriam looked at the floor, her face pale. Deirdre felt appalled. She had brought this on the woman. Had she not begged for an alliance, these terrible events would never have happened.

No.

It would have happened eventually. Whatever Zakharov wanted, he needed Miriam and her religion out of the way; the object that denied the explanation of physics and made anathema the art of equations. The very idea of a god was the closest a pure, mathematical scientist came to hearing heresy.

"Lord have mercy. Father Nolan, withdraw all troops from St Brigit's. If you can, take some into the sewers, and follow them back to Calvary Memorial. Gather outside that. The majority of troops must rally around the barricades erected. Zakharov will be prevented entry into this bunker, is that understood?"

Nolan nodded, and behind him, a streak of lucid orange flame made the screen shimmer with crackling whiteness. Miriam shouted, before the connection went:

"Spread the word: whatever the circumstances, the University must be stopped. Lives no longer matter. Earthly sacrifices will make us beautiful in the eyes of god, and the greatest of rewards shall meet us at the Gates."

With a screeching of electrical whizzing, the screen went dead.

Deirdre sighed, and turned away from the screen. This was it. The finale. This time, the majority of the Council had supported her, and yet the monster was destroying it easily. The monster that she had once called a friend.

Then she had an idea.

Saying nothing, she left the control room. If this worked, the screams of frustration from University Base would span an entire continent. She smiled to herself.



Shattered and bruised, entire divisions of defending troops assembled within Calvary Memorial, manning the long-prepared gun emplacements and turrets. Three million warriors had been crammed into the bunker, which extended about three hundred metres below the ground.

The remaining twenty million or so troops had scattered throughout the city, holding individual cities, fighting for hours over a single house, but sometimes losing whole streets in the blink of an eyelid.

The mindworms of the Gaians were torn apart easily by flame cannons given to every University unit. Zakharov was prepared for the mindworm army of Deirdre, for he had seen how easily they had torn apart the Spartans in the war.

The city was burning. Whole districts burned, fire cutting immense swathes, like the scythe of Death himself. The screaming reached a deafening volume, and the agonized cries reached into the heavens.

The Believers were dying.

They were losing.

They knew that they had failed Christ.

They knew they had failed to stop the University.

They knew that their defeat, humiliating and abject, would cause the end of hope for mankind.

They knew all this, and more, and yet, with the courage and conviction of years of worship, they gave their lives eagerly. And as they died, they sang, solemnly and loud, their very souls present in the words.

Hymns of Earth, the new hymns of Planet. Hymns beautiful to the ear, poured from their lips, as they killed.

"Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed is thy name."

The sung the prayer of the Father, the prayer given to Jesus himself by God as he preached to the masses more that two and a half thousand years ago. They wept as they sang, but still they sang, sorrowful yet firm in their fervour.

The hymns rose above the screams, and, as if calmed by a power greater than any human being, the screaming seemed to quieten. Even the guns seemed fainter. Now the hymns filled the air, many and varied.

"Die!"

From the schools, protected by thousands of Believing men, the children attacked. They had no weapons, merely their fists, but still they ran into the streets, picking up the weapons of dead men and women, and using them to attack the armies of Zakharov. Following their example, more and more Believers attacked, their unmatched ferocity driving the men of the University back. Back through the captured districts, back through the gates, past the trenches.

Finally, the enemy broke, and scattered, as the air force of Gaia took to the air, fully refuelled. Fire erupted outside the city now, inflicting terrible casualties. Still the Believers sang their hymns, and, when the Gaians landed their aircraft, the University were far too shaken to attack again, and so stayed put, with nothing more happening that night, other than a few shots from artillery bombardment.



Miriam had no idea where Deirdre had gone. She had left without a word, a strange expression on her face. What was she up to? Miriam no longer had any suspicions about the girl, not since she had decided to stay in New Jerusalem with Miriam. Morgan had left, under the command of Miriam, who had wanted someone to carry on the fight if she died. He had been given the locations to Gaian cities, and was to oversee the defences of Gaia if Deirdre died.

Lal had left, as had Imala, even more reluctantly than Morgan. However, she had not left for her city, she had left to infiltrate the University camps, to eliminate leading commanders, as had many of her co-faction terrorists and assassins.

Where was Deirdre?

Miriam barked the code word, and stepped into a lift. Descending to the lowest levels, lit only by small, flickering lights, Miriam sighed. There she was. Deirdre sat on the floor, her eyes closed, meditating. At least that was what it looked like.

Miriam breathed out. Deirdre was not meditating. She was practicing the occult again. Miriam, you are a fool, her voice whispered. You believed her confession; you believed that she wanted to become a Christian once again? How could you be so naive? Cursing, Miriam stood next to Deirdre, who had not noticed her yet.

"Deirdre! What- what is- this?"

With an almost audible snap, the eyes of the Gaian leader opened, and she paled.

"Miriam, what are you doing down here?"

"What are you doing, Deirdre?"

The woman sighed. "I- I am trying to talk with Planet."

Miriam shook her head. "What?"

Deirdre sighed. Again. "You will think I am mad, but Planet talks with me. It tells me things, even tries to help me. It recognises that I want to protect it, that I want to keep it preserved for its beauty. Therefore, it talks to me. Only when it wants to, though. I am trying to locate it with my own mind. It is our last hope, Miriam. If I can ask for aid, Zakharov can perhaps be driven back."

Miriam nodded. "Very well, Deirdre. I trust you are well practiced at this?"

Deirdre looked away. "No. I have never tried before. Most empaths would find this impossible. My psychic abilities have increased quite considerably since my stay on Planet, and through my constant communications with it, but it still might be beyond me. Nevertheless, it is our last and only hope, Miriam. Who else is there to come to our aid, but Planet itself?"

Miriam nodded once again. "Very well. How long will you need?"

So, she was not using occult. Shuddering, Miriam realised that she had been falling into a pitfall Zakharov had made for her. The Scientist had probably planted the reports of paganism filtering from Gaia. Of course, they were not all Christians, and some worshipped Planet, but they were not evil. Just different.

Deirdre looked away once more.

"About two days, Miriam. I need you to hold this city, or at least this bunker, for two days."

She knew as she asked that it was almost impossible. Miriam turned away, and ascended once more, using the lift. Whether or not it was possible, the Lord had given her an opportunity for victory, and she would not let it pass her by. It was time to take a more personal hand in the defence.

It was time to unleash the Nuns.