The countdown timer on the main screen pulsed red.
58:00.
Fifty-eight minutes until the sky fell.
The Command Deck was silent. The euphoria of capturing the fortress had evaporated, replaced by the cold, metallic taste of dread.
Marcus stood by the console. He stared at the timer.
"We don't wait to die," Marcus said. The clap of his hands echoed like a gunshot in the sterile room. "We dig in."
He turned to his team.
"Lucilla. The elevators. Lock them down."
She jumped, startled, but her hands flew to the keyboard.
"I can disable the mag-levs," she said. "But the shafts are still open. They could rappel."
"Vent the shafts," Marcus ordered. "Drain the oxygen. Make them fight for every breath before they even reach the floor."
"Venting Sector 1 through 5," she typed. "Atmosphere purged."
"Good. Now funnel them. Weld the side doors. Force them into the main Atrium."
Marcus turned to the physician.
"Galen. Get to the Med-Bay. Take the giant."
He pointed at Narcissus, who was leaning heavily against the wall, clutching the massive Plasma Caster. Steam was still rising from his skin. The blue light in his chest flickered erratically.
"He's unstable," Marcus said. "If he red-lines during the fight, he explodes. And if he explodes, we lose our artillery."
"I need parts," Galen said, eyeing the gladiator's glowing chest. "Titanium. Coolant."
"Use the facility," Marcus said. "Cannibalize a drone if you have to. Just fix him."
He looked at Narcissus.
"Iron Dog. Go get patched. When you come back, I want you angry."
Narcissus grunted. He pushed himself off the wall.
"I am always angry, Caesar."
They left.
Marcus stood alone with the timer.
55:12.
"Now for me," he muttered.
He ran out of the Command Deck, following the yellow logistics line on the floor.
[FABRICATION LAB]
He burst through the doors.
The room was white. Massive 3D printers—molecular assemblers—lined the walls. Robot arms hung dormant from the ceiling.
Marcus approached the main terminal.
"System scan," he ordered.
[FABRICATOR ONLINE. AWAITING BLUEPRINT.]
"I need weapons," Marcus said.
[ERROR. WEAPON SCHEMATICS RESTRICTED TO SECURITY CLEARANCE LEVEL 5.]
"Lucilla cleared me," Marcus growled. "Override."
[ACCESS GRANTED.]
A menu scrolled. Rifles. Pistols. Grenades.
But the build times were too long.
[PULSE RIFLE: 4 HOURS.]
"Too slow," Marcus hissed. He slammed his fist on the console. "I need simple geometry. Pressure plates. High explosives."
He selected a mining charge schematic.
[PROXIMITY MINE (INDUSTRIAL). PRINT TIME: 3 MINUTES.]
"Print ten," Marcus ordered. "Now."
The machine whirred to life. Lasers danced inside the glass chamber, fusing metal dust into solid shapes.
While it worked, Marcus unstrapped the Vibro-Knife from his leg.
He placed it on the scanner bed.
"Scan object."
A blue light swept over the blade.
[OBJECT SCANNED. HIGH-FREQUENCY BLADE. CARBON-CERAMIC COMPOSITE.]
"Scale it up," Marcus said. "Length: twenty-four inches. Double the battery capacity. Reinforce the hilt."
[RECALCULATING...]
A holographic wireframe appeared. It looked like a gladius, but sleek. Brutal. A sword meant to cut tank armor.
"Print it," Marcus whispered.
The second machine spun up. The smell of ozone filled the room.
Marcus watched the lasers work. Layer by layer, they built his war.
40:00.
The Med-Bay smelled of antiseptic and ozone.
Narcissus lay strapped to a vertical surgical table. Restraints made of steel cable held his arms and legs.
He wasn't fighting them. He was shaking.
"The fire..." he gasped. "It's inside the bone."
Galen stood at the control console. Robot arms—Auto-Docs—descended from the ceiling. They held lasers, scalpels, and injectors.
"The connection is loose," Galen muttered, watching the vitals monitor. "The Fusion Core is vibrating against his sternum. It's cooking the tissue."
"Cut it out," Narcissus groaned.
"No," Galen said. His eyes were manic. "We don't remove the engine. We bolt it down."
He activated the arms.
A laser scalpel sliced through the scar tissue on Narcissus's chest. The giant roared, thrashing against the straps.
"Hold him still!" Galen shouted at the machine.
A mechanical claw clamped onto Narcissus's chest, holding the ribcage open.
Galen grabbed a titanium ring he had scavenged from a drone chassis.
"Implanting mounting bracket," Galen said.
The robot arms moved with terrifying precision. They drilled four holes into Narcissus's breastbone.
ZZZT. ZZZT.
Narcissus screamed. It was a sound of pure agony.
Galen slammed the titanium ring over the Fusion Core. He bolted it directly to the bone.
"Sealing," Galen said.
He grabbed a canister of blue liquid from the supply rack. [LN2 COOLANT GEL].
He loaded it into a heavy-gauge hypodermic gun.
He jammed the needle into Narcissus's jugular.
"Cool the blood," Galen whispered.
He pulled the trigger.
The blue fluid pumped into the gladiator's veins.
Narcissus gasped. His back arched. His eyes rolled back.
Then, he stopped screaming.
The steam rising from his skin vanished. The red flush of his face faded, replaced by a pale, icy sheen. The veins in his neck turned a glowing, electric blue.
His breathing slowed.
Hiss-thump. Hiss-thump.
Like a hydraulic pump.
Narcissus opened his eyes. The blue light in his right eye was steady now. Cold. Unwavering.
The restraints clicked open.
Narcissus stepped off the table. He rolled his shoulders. The new titanium mount in his chest hummed perfectly.
"The fire is gone," Narcissus rumbled. His voice sounded deeper. Metallic.
He looked at his hands. Frost formed on his knuckles.
"Now there is only ice."
15:00.
The Main Atrium was a killing floor.
It was a wide, open space with white marble floors and glass walls overlooking the lava lake. A balcony ringed the upper level.
Marcus dragged a heavy reception desk across the floor. He flipped it on its side, creating a barricade facing the center of the room.
"Mines," Marcus said.
He held the stack of freshly printed discs.
He walked to the large ventilation grates in the center of the floor.
He pried one up with his new sword—the Vibro-Gladius. It was heavy, perfectly balanced, and hummed with a menace that made the air vibrate.
He placed a mine under the grate. He lowered the metal mesh back down.
He did it again. And again. Creating a ring of death in the center of the room.
Lucilla stood on the balcony, watching him. She held the datapad tight against her chest.
"Three pods," she said. Her voice trembled. "That's a platoon, Marcus. Twelve heavy units."
"It's not a platoon," Marcus said, placing the last mine. "It's a target-rich environment."
He stood up. He wiped grease from his new sword.
"Where is the big gun?"
Heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor.
Narcissus entered.
He looked monstrous. The black ceramic armor covered his left side. His chest was a glowing blue reactor. Frost coated his skin. He carried the massive Plasma Caster effortlessly.
"I am ready," the giant said.
"Get to the balcony," Marcus ordered. "High ground. When they pop the doors, you rain hell."
Narcissus climbed the stairs. The metal groaned under his weight.
Galen ran in, clutching a bag of chem-grenades.
"Vents are primed," Galen said. "I can flood the room with blind-gas on your signal."
"Get to cover," Marcus said. "Don't die."
Marcus took his position behind the overturned desk. He checked the charge on his Gladius. 100%.
He looked at the ceiling.
The glass dome showed the smoky sky.
00:10.
A low rumble started. It shook the floor plates.
00:05.
The sky streaked with fire. Three burning comets, screaming down from orbit.
00:00.
"Brace!" Marcus yelled.
BOOM.
The glass dome shattered.
Thousands of shards rained down like diamond hail.
Three black monoliths slammed into the atrium floor.
The impact knocked Marcus back against the wall. Dust billowed out, thick and choking.
The pods stood in the craters, hissing steam.
They were black. Featureless.
Then, the explosive bolts fired.
KA-CHUNK.
The doors fell open.
Red eyes glowed in the smoke.
"Welcome to Rome," Marcus whispered, gripping his sword.