Gambir Station was buzzing with activity when Father Paulus and Father Francis Chrysostom arrived. It was during the mid-morning hours; when rush hour was fully underway and people are waiting for their turn to commute, while some hawkers were setting up their food stands in the open space at the right side of the station.

The pair was dressed in clerical outfits, the former in the stately cassock and collar of the Roman Latin rite, the latter in flowing rason and exorason, the inner and outer cassock respectively, of the Byzantine Catholic rite. To the untrained eye the pair can be taken as a Christian and a Muslim clergyman walking together – a rarity these days, given that Islamic extremists had unleashed havoc across the Republic; affecting interfaith relations to the extent that even in bourgeois cosmopolitan Jakarta, relatively untouched by the Civil War, any sign of overt religious identification can attract looks of consternation from the populace.

Not that the pair minded. Father Paulus had just been ordained two weeks earlier, and was waiting for the Archdiocese to assign him a pastorate, which he just got the night before. Father Chrysostom, on the other hand, had been ordained a year before Paulus – but the pair had grown close to each other as brother priests despite serving in different rites.

The priesthood was not the only thing both men shared. Though Paulus hailed from the ethnic Chinese enclave of Melawai, and Chrysostom from a mixed Chinese-Javanese family from Semarang in Central Java, both shared a deep love for their culture and people, and sought to preach in ways that appealed to them. Such attitudes had undoubtedly been shaped by their sacerdotal formation under Father John Wong, a Franciscan priest from Singapore, who encouraged both Paulus and Chrysostom to not only study the Holy Scriptures and the writings of the Church, but to also deepen their knowledge of the Chinese classics – Taoist, Buddhist and Confucian alike.

"I never thought I'd be the one to see you off, Jude," Chrysostom said, as they approached Terminal Three, where the train heading for Surabaya would stop to pick up its passengers.

"I didn't expect you to see me off as well, Eko Sugiono," Paulus replied. Both men addressed each other with their birth names instead of the names they had taken up during ordination. "I am going to miss Father Avell, along with all the friends I've made in the seminary."

"I know," Chrysostom said. He took a moment to reminisce on the friends and family he had left behind in Semarang, before continuing; "Still, take heart in the knowledge that the priesthood is a life of service to the Lord. There, in Surabaya, will your true life and calling begin."

Paulus did some reminiscing of his own. For a moment he never thought he would come this far. He'd only made the decision to become Catholic seven years earlier against the wishes of his strict father, a Lutheran minister serving one of the largest congregations in Jakarta's Central District. Even more so, the process of seeking the priesthood had been an exasperating affair, forcing him to spend endless nights arguing with his family about his decision. But when he saw the priests he had known serving the poor and forgotten in the slums of Jakarta, as well as helping them earn a decent living, he decided that this was the path he was going to take. Throughout his formative years a common thread had run through his life; namely to seek what is true, just and honourable, as was said by Saint Paul, whose name he had taken up shortly before his ordination.

As the overhead announcer declared the train's arrival in two minutes, Chrysostom handed Paulus back his luggage, in which he had put his clothes along with the Bible and Missal he owned. Chrysostom then placed a hand on Paulus' left shoulder just as the train was about to stop.

"I don't know Surabaya very well," he said. "But my sources tell me that the city lies in the crosshairs between Republic and Fascist Alliance forces. It may become contested later on. Whatever happens, do not forget to pray and ask for God's protection. Stay safe, my brother. May the Lord bless you and keep you, and may He shine his countenance upon you."

"You too, brother," Paulus said, as he stepped into the train. "Until we meet again."

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Jude Chiang arrived at Gambir Station a few minutes after departing his office. Though much had changed since the last time he was there, he still noticed many features that had remained the same. Among which were the throngs of people waiting to board the trains to get to work, as well as the countless hawkers setting up their food stands. Come to think of it, the open space that served as the hawkers' traditional domain had been greatly expanded; following a major revamp of the station nine years earlier as part of a wider development plan for Jakarta to celebrate the Empire's fifth year in power.

Unlike the time he came here with Father Chrysostom, Chiang was no longer the humble priest known as Father Paulus. He had renounced both the priesthood and the Catholic faith when he first learned from the Emperor himself of the true path to power as practiced by his forefathers of old. Treading this new path had not been without its consequences; entailing great personal sacrifices, many of which Chiang kept only to himself.

But all had been worth it in the end, he thought, as he saw his escorts – a pair of Death Troopers – approach.

The train heading for Bogor Aerodrome was not on any of the listed routes or terminals. Instead, Chiang and his escorts would board a train belonging to Imperial High Command at a terminal hidden from public view. He could have chosen to use a shuttle like the other officers in charge of Operation Dhole, but the mission required him to keep a low-profile, thereby affecting his choice of transport. The only consolation was that he would travel on a bullet train, which would arrive at Bogor Aerodrome far more quickly than a conventional one.

Chiang and his escort passed by Terminal Three as they headed towards the restricted area to board the bullet train. Of all the terminals it was the most unchanged, as he recognised the worn wooden benches and faded signs that were already in service long before the Empire had come into power. In fact, he could distinctly recall the bench standing at the centre of the platform beside the right lane, the very same one he and Chrysostom had occupied while waiting for the train to Surabaya sixteen years earlier.

Once again Chiang dismissed the memory. The priesthood is dead as far as he was concerned, its noble ideals corrupted by the very men he had been called to respect. The hierarchs of his church, many of whom had claimed to dedicate themselves to the cultivation of moral virtue in society, were not above receiving kickbacks from certain think tanks and special interest groups, many of which turned out to be politically aligned with Siregar's allies in the Senate. The Emperor, ever present and attentive to his needs like a doting uncle, had caught on Chiang's anguish and offered him an alternative path – one of veneration towards the ancestors and great heroes of his people. The only thing that mattered to him now was standing among the great lords of the Empire, a position which the Emperor had bestowed upon him in exchange for his loyalty.

Even so, memories of the past he had always wanted to forget had resurfaced over the past few days, no doubt influenced by his recent interactions with Zack Assegaf. Of all the members of the Imperial hierarchy other than the Emperor, Assegaf had been the only one to have ever met him prior to becoming a BKN officer. Though the Arab couldn't remember the exact circumstances of their first encounter, Chiang knew it was only a matter of time before he would find out.

Chiang would make it his concern later. Not long after, he and his Death Trooper escort stepped into the restricted area to board the train heading off to Bogor Aerodrome. There was no one inside save for two Mobile Brigade policemen, both of whom stepped aside to allow the BKN Director and his escort to board the specially designated bullet train.

The train began moving as soon as Chiang and his escort were seated comfortably, slowly picking up speed before disappearing in a flash once it was safely out of the terminal.