The dust hadn't even settled when the sky tore open.
Marcus was kneeling over a dead Hunter, ripping a fusion cell from its chest.
The metro station was silent, save for the heavy breathing of the Legion and the crackle of distant fires.
"Clear," Marcia said, reloading her shotgun. "Sector secured."
[ALERT: CODE BLACK.]
The warning flashed in Marcus's vision. Not gold. Red.
[SOURCE: ORBITAL PLATFORM 'ZEUS'.]
[DETECTED: KINETIC PROJECTILE LAUNCH.]
[IMPACT: 10 SECONDS.]
Marcus looked up through the shattered roof of the station.
A streak of light appeared in the clouds. It wasn't a missile. It was too fast. A spear of god-fire plunging toward the earth.
"INCOMING!" Marcus screamed. "COVER!"
He tackled Marcia. He threw her behind a concrete pillar.
The refugees scrambled. They didn't know where to look. Up? Down?
The light hit the mountain range to the north. Ten miles away.
There was no sound.
Just a flash. Brighter than the sun.
The mountain vanished.
Rock vaporized instantly. A mushroom cloud of dust and steam rose into the stratosphere.
"Wait for it," Marcus whispered, pressing his hands over his ears. "Shockwave."
Five seconds.
Four.
Three.
BOOM.
The sound hit them like a physical hammer.
The air pressure in the station spiked. Glass shattered. Dust fell from the ceiling in sheets.
Refugees screamed, clutching their bleeding ears.
The ground heaved. An earthquake triggered by pure kinetic force.
CRACK.
The ceiling supports groaned. Concrete dust rained down.
"It's coming down!" Decimus yelled. "The roof is collapsing!"
"Move!" Marcus scrambled up. "Everyone out! Go!"
He grabbed a refugee by the collar and shoved him toward the exit ramp.
The ceiling buckled. A slab of concrete the size of a bus fell, crushing the ticket booth where they had been standing seconds ago.
"Narcissus!" Marcus yelled. "Move!"
The giant was struggling.
His damaged leg servo was locked. He was dragging two tons of dead weight.
"Go, brother," Narcissus grunted. He tried to take a step, but his knee buckled. He fell to one knee. "I am... slow."
"We don't leave you!" Marcus roared.
He ran back. He grabbed the giant's arm.
"Heave!"
Marcia joined him. Then Galen. Then Decimus.
They pulled.
The giant didn't budge. He was too heavy.
"Leave me!" Narcissus shouted. "Save the Legion!"
Another tremor shook the station. More debris fell. A steel beam crashed down, blocking the exit ramp.
"We're trapped!" Lucilla screamed.
"No," Marcus snarled. "We make a door."
He looked at the blockage.
"Narcissus! Can you throw?"
"Throw what?"
"Me."
Marcus pointed at the gap in the ceiling where the light had come through.
"Toss me up. I'll drop a rope."
"Understood," Narcissus said.
The giant grabbed Marcus by the waist. His servos whined—a sound of dying metal.
"Fly, little bird," Narcissus grunted.
He heaved.
Marcus soared through the air.
He activated his vibro-gladius mid-flight. He stabbed the wall near the opening. The blade sank into the concrete, acting as a piton.
He hung there, dangling fifty feet above the floor.
He sheathed the sword and scrambled out onto the surface.
The world outside was white and gray. Snow and ash.
He grabbed a heavy tow cable from the wreckage of a truck nearby. He threw one end down the hole.
"Tie it off!" Marcus yelled.
Down below, Decimus grabbed the cable. He looped it around Narcissus's chest.
"Pull!" Decimus shouted to the Legion.
Fifty refugees grabbed the rope.
"HEAVE!"
Marcus pulled from the top, wrapping the cable around a sturdy steel pylon.
Slowly, agonizingly, the giant rose.
He scraped against the wall. Sparks flew.
"Keep pulling!" Marcus screamed.
Narcissus crested the rim. He clawed at the snow.
He hauled himself out. He lay there, smoking, oil leaking from his knee joint.
The rest of the Legion followed, climbing the rope hand over hand.
They collapsed in the snow, gasping for air.
Marcus looked north.
The mountain was gone.
A crater five miles wide smoked in the distance. The snow for ten miles around had been blown away, revealing bare, blackened rock.
"What was that?" Marcia whispered, staring at the destruction. "A nuke?"
"No radiation," Marcus said. "Kinetic rod. Tungsten telephone pole dropped from orbit. Mach 10."
"Rod from God," Galen whimpered. "Vane isn't playing anymore."
A holographic flicker appeared in the air.
It projected from the wreckage of a destroyed Hunter droid near the crater's edge.
Vane's face. Distorted. Blue static.
"Missed," Vane's voice said. It was calm. Clinical. "Seismic data was slightly off. Recalculating coordinates."
The face smiled.
"Next shot in 4 hours. Don't move, Marcus. It makes the math harder."
The hologram died.
"4 hours," Marcus said. "He's reloading."
"We can't stay here," Lucilla said. She was shaking. "He knows exactly where we are."
"We walk," Marcus said.
"To where?" Decimus asked. "The trucks are buried. We have no fuel."
"The Iron Wall is a hundred miles west," Marcus said, pointing at the map on his HUD. "If we reach the Alps, we're inside his defensive perimeter. He won't fire a rod on his own bunkers."
"A hundred miles?" Marcia laughed bitterly. "In four hours? In this snow? We can't walk that fast."
"We don't walk," Marcus said.
He scanned the horizon.
To the south, rusted metal glinted in the faint sunlight.
Tracks.
A maglev line. Elevated on concrete pylons. It ran parallel to the old highway, straight toward the mountains.
"The Orient Express," Lucilla said. "High-speed rail. It connected Istanbul to Vienna."
"Is it powered?" Marcus asked.
"No. The grid is dead."
"We have a battery," Marcus said.
He pointed to the heavy green cylinder Narcissus was clutching to his chest like a baby. The Nuclear Core from the Sentinel.
"Galen," Marcus said. "Can you hotwire a train?"
Galen looked at the tracks. Then at the glowing core.
"A maglev needs megawatts," Galen stammered. "That core is unstable. If I plug it into a train engine... it might just explode."
"Will it move before it explodes?"
"Maybe. fast. Very fast."
"Good enough," Marcus said.
"Legion!" Marcus shouted. "Move out! To the rail yard!"
They marched through the slush.
It was a grim procession. They carried their wounded. They had no food, no shelter. Just the clothes on their backs and the weapons in their hands.
They reached the depot in twenty minutes.
It was a graveyard of trains. Sleek, bullet-nosed engines sat rusting on the tracks, covered in graffiti and snow.
"Find a hauler!" Marcus ordered. "Something flat! We need space for everyone!"
"Here!" Narcissus yelled from down the line.
He was standing next to a massive, industrial freight engine. It was ugly—blocky, armored, built to haul tanks. Behind it were ten flatbed cars.
"Board Transport Unit 7," Galen read the faded stencil. "Heavy lifter."
"Open it," Marcus said.
Narcissus ripped the door off the engine cab.
Galen jumped inside. He started tearing panels off the control console.
"Where does the power go?" Marcus asked.
"Main bus," Galen pointed to a thick copper cable. "Here."
"Narcissus, bring the core."
The giant climbed onto the engine. The metal groaned under his weight.
He placed the Nuclear Battery on the floor of the cab.
"Connect it," Marcus ordered.
Galen stripped the wires. He jammed them into the battery's output ports.
Sparks showered the cab.
ZZZZZT.
The train shuddered.
Lights flickered on the dashboard. Not steady—pulsing with the erratic beat of the unstable core.
A low hum began.
The train lifted.
It hovered six inches off the track. Magnetic levitation engaged.
"It's live!" Galen shouted, laughing manically. "We have lift!"
"Load up!" Marcus yelled to the refugees. "Get on the flatbeds! Stay low! Tie yourselves down!"
The Legion scrambled onto the open cars. It was exposed. Dangerous.
"The wind will kill them at speed," Marcia said.
"Build walls!" Marcus ordered. "Rip up the station roof! Anything!"
Narcissus jumped down. He started tearing sheets of corrugated metal from a nearby shed. He tossed them to the refugees.
They lashed the metal to the sides of the flatcars with wire and rope. Makeshift windbreaks.
"Three minutes!" Marcus checked his HUD. "Vane is calculating."
The train hummed louder. The core was glowing brighter. Green light spilled out of the cab windows.
"We are ready," Galen said. His hands were shaking on the throttle.
Marcus climbed onto the roof of the engine. Marcia joined him, setting up her railgun on a bipod.
"Why are we up here?" she asked.
"Because Titus won't let us leave without a fight," Marcus said. "We need eyes in the sky."
He looked back at the convoy of rust and desperation.
"Galen!" Marcus yelled. "Punch it!"
Galen slammed the throttle forward.
The train jerked.
It didn't accelerate smoothly. It launched.
The G-force threw everyone backward.
The train screamed down the track.
0 to 60.
0 to 100.
Snow blurred into a white tunnel.
"Next stop, the Alps," Marcus muttered, gripping the roof railing.
He looked up at the sky.
The clouds were parting.
"Come on, Vane," Marcus whispered. "Try to hit a moving target."