The dust tasted of pulverized concrete.
Marcus peered over the edge of the overturned desk. The atrium was a ruin of shattered glass and smoke.
In the center of the room, the three drop pods stood like obsidian tombstones.
Steam hissed from their cooling vents.
CLANG.
A heavy boot stepped out of the fog.
Then another.
These weren't robots.
They were men.
But barely. They stood seven feet tall, encased in heavy, hydraulic exoskeletons. Their armor was matte grey, scarred with hazard stripes. Their faces were hidden behind thick, amber-tinted visors.
Breachers.
"Mercenaries," Marcus hissed. "Augmented heavy infantry."
They didn't rush. They moved with mechanical precision.
Six of them stepped out of the first two pods. They carried massive Tower Shields—rectangular slabs of composite steel—and held auto-shotguns in their right hands.
They locked shields instantly.
CLACK-THUD.
A moving wall of metal formed in the smoke.
They advanced.
Boom-step. Boom-step.
The rhythmic thud of their boots shook the floor.
"Hold fire," Marcus whispered into his comms. "Wait for the trap."
The Breachers scanned the room. Their helmet lights cut through the dust.
"Target located," a distorted voice amplified from a helmet. "Hostiles on the balcony. Suppressing."
The shield wall opened fire.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.
Explosive slugs tore into the upper walkway. Concrete exploded. The railing disintegrated.
Narcissus ducked behind a pillar.
"They have heavy rounds!" the giant roared.
"Wait for it," Marcus muttered.
The shield wall advanced. Five more steps.
They reached the center of the room. Directly over the ventilation grates.
Click.
A heavy boot depressed the floor plate.
"Now!" Marcus screamed.
BOOM.
The floor erupted.
The shaped charges Marcus had printed blew upward.
The blast was concentrated. It didn't scatter shrapnel; it punched.
Two Breachers were launched into the air. Their heavy exoskeletons cartwheeled like tossed dolls. They smashed into the ceiling forty feet up and fell back down, crumpled and still.
The shield wall shattered. The formation broke.
"Narcissus! Rain!" Marcus yelled.
On the balcony, the giant stood up. He leveled the Plasma Caster.
THOOM. THOOM.
Blue suns streaked down.
The plasma bolts hit the confused Breachers.
One bolt struck a Tower Shield. The composite metal glowed white, then melted. The blast wave threw the mercenary backward, his armor cooking him alive inside the suit.
Another bolt hit a Breacher in the chest. The exoskeleton exploded.
"Contact front!" a Breacher shouted. "Engage heavy weapon!"
The surviving four Breachers turned their shotguns upward. They ignored Marcus. They focused on the threat.
They unleashed a wall of lead at the balcony.
Narcissus roared, taking a slug to his ceramic pauldron. It cracked, but held. He was pinned.
"Galen! The gas!"
From the high vents, canisters dropped.
PSSSHH.
Thick, yellow smoke flooded the floor. CS-7 Blindness Gas.
The Breachers faltered. Their sensors struggled in the chemical soup.
"My turn," Marcus said.
He activated the Vibro-Gladius.
HMMMMM.
The sword hummed—a deep, angry baritone.
Marcus vaulted over the desk.
He sprinted into the yellow fog.
He didn't charge the front. He flanked.
A Breacher was trying to wipe his visor.
Marcus slid on his knees. He went low.
He swung the sword.
The Vibro-Blade met the hydraulic piston of the exoskeleton's leg.
SHING.
It sliced through steel, oil, and bone in one motion.
The Breacher screamed as his leg collapsed. He fell sideways.
Marcus rose. He reversed the grip on the sword.
He drove it down. through the gap in the neck armor.
CRUNCH.
One down.
The Breacher next to him turned. The auto-shotgun leveled at Marcus's chest.
Too close to miss.
Marcus didn't dodge. He grabbed the barrel of the gun with his left hand—the one protected by the ceramic gauntlet he'd scavenged.
He pushed the barrel up.
BOOM.
The slug took off Marcus's ear tip. The concussive blast rattled his teeth.
Marcus stepped in. He headbutted the Breacher's visor with his own ceramic-plated forehead.
CRACK.
The visor spiderwebbed.
Marcus thrust the sword into the gut.
The blade hummed inside the armor, vibrating organs into jelly.
The Breacher slumped.
"Clear!" Marcus shouted, kicking the corpse away.
The floor was quiet. Six dead mercenaries lay in the wreckage.
But the third pod was still closed.
It stood in the center of the crater, untouched by the mines.
It was bigger than the others.
HISSS.
The hydraulic locks disengaged.
The door didn't open. It blew off.
It flew across the room and embedded itself in the wall.
Something stepped out.
It wasn't a man in a suit.
It was a Centurion Class War-Droid.
Twelve feet of black steel. It didn't have legs; it hovered on anti-gravity thrusters, kicking up dust.
Its shoulders were mounted with rocket pods. Its right arm was a rotary Gatling cannon. Its left arm was a missile launcher.
Its single red eye scanned the room.
[TARGET ACQUIRED: OMEGA THREAT.]
It looked up at the balcony. At Narcissus.
"Oh no," Marcus whispered.
The Centurion ignored Marcus entirely. It recognized the Plasma Caster as the only weapon capable of hurting it.
It raised its missile arm.
"Iron Dog! Move!" Marcus screamed.
FWOOSH-FWOOSH-FWOOSH.
Three micro-missiles streaked across the room.
They hit the balcony.
KA-BOOM.
The entire section of the upper floor disintegrated. Concrete turned to dust.
Narcissus fell.
He crashed into the rubble of the atrium floor, buried under tons of stone and steel.
"Narcissus!" Galen shouted from the vents.
The Centurion swiveled. Its thrusters hummed. It turned its attention to the floor.
To Marcus.
Marcus stood alone in the debris field. He held a sword against a tank.
The Centurion's Gatling arm spun up.
WHIRRRRR.
It aimed.
Marcus looked at the barrels. He knew the math. 3,000 rounds per minute. He couldn't dodge that.
He tapped his ear comms.
"Lucilla!" Marcus screamed. "Drop the hammer!"
"On it!" her voice crackled.
High above, in the shadowed ceiling of the factory atrium, industrial gears ground to life.
A massive yellow gantry crane, used for moving Sentinel chassis, surged forward.
Hanging from its hook was a ten-ton electromagnet.
It swung down like a pendulum of god.
The Centurion's sensors detected the motion too late.
[WARNING: OVERHEAD IMPACT.]
The magnet smashed into the droid's shoulder.
CLANG.
The impact drove the hovering machine into the ground. It crushed the thrusters.
"Magnetize!" Marcus yelled.
Lucilla hit the switch.
HUMMM.
The magnet engaged.
The Centurion was pinned. Its steel chassis was glued to the ten-ton weight. It thrashed, its Gatling gun firing wildly into the floor, chewing up concrete.
It couldn't lift the magnet.
But it could turn its head.
The red eye focused on Marcus.
The shoulder rocket pods opened. It still had missiles.
It aimed at Marcus.
Marcus looked at the trapped machine. He looked at his sword.
He charged.
He sprinted across the broken floor. He jumped onto the magnet.
He ran down the crane arm.
The rocket pod glowed. Ignition sequence.
Marcus leaped.
He landed on the Centurion's chest.
He reversed the Vibro-Gladius.
He drove it into the red eye.
SHUNK.
He put his weight behind it. He twisted the handle.
The blade hummed violently, vibrating inside the droid's CPU.
Sparks erupted from the neck joint.
The rocket pods powered down. The glow faded.
The machine seized. It shuddered once, then went limp, hanging from the magnet like a dead fish.
Marcus pulled the sword free. He slid off the chassis, landing in the dust.
He gasped for air. Every muscle in his body trembled.
"Clear," he whispered.
He looked at the pile of rubble where the balcony had been.
"Galen! Get the digging gear!"
A chunk of concrete shifted.
A blue light shone through the cracks.
A massive hand, encased in black ceramic and frost, punched through the debris.
Narcissus pushed a slab of concrete off his chest. He sat up. He was covered in gray dust, looking like a statue come to life.
He checked his Plasma Caster. It was bent, useless.
He threw it aside.
He stood up. He shook the dust from his shoulders.
"I am still here, Caesar," Narcissus rumbled.
Marcus grinned. He slumped against the dead Centurion.
"Good," Marcus said. "Because I think Vane is just getting started."
The comms crackled.
"Marcus," Lucilla said. Her voice was tight. "You need to come to the Command Deck. Now."
"We won," Marcus said. "Give us a minute."
"You didn't win," she said. "You survived the scouting party."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm looking at the long-range sensors," she said. "The lava lake... it's draining."
"Draining?"
"Something big is coming up from the core, Marcus. Something the size of a city."
Marcus looked at the shattered dome. The sky was red.
"Let's go," Marcus said, sheathing his sword. "War doesn't wait for a break."