The Command Spire was the highest point in the Cinder-Peaks, a needle of black obsidian and glass piercing the smog layer. From here, one could see the entire hellish geometry of Foundry-9: the glowing arteries of lava, the slave camps, and the riot spreading like a virus through the lower levels.
Julian kicked the doors to the Control Room open.
Inside, Administrator Gorse was frantically stuffing data-drives into a reinforced briefcase. He was a small, oily man in a pristine white suit that looked absurdly out of place in the soot-stained world.
He looked up, freezing as Lyra aimed her carbine at his chest.
"You're too late!" Gorse squeaked, backing toward his private escape lift. "The riot squad is already breaching the Fabricator! You can't stop production!"
"Production is dead," Julian said, walking past him to the massive window overlooking the lava lake. "We blew the Core."
Gorse turned pale. "You... you destroyed the Fabricator? Do you know how much that cost? The Emperor will flay me!"
"If you're lucky," Isolde muttered, guarding the door.
Julian looked down. Far below, in the lake of fire, the Magma Strider was thrashing. The Magma-Troopers on the shore were firing harpoons, trying to subdue it, but the beast sensed the weakness in the facility.
"The release mechanism," Julian said, turning to the main console. It was a complex array of levers and pressure gauges.
"You can't," Gorse stammered. "The chain is the only thing keeping the volcano stable! If the Titan moves, the magma displacement will flood the facility!"
"That's the plan," Julian said.
He grabbed the main lever—a heavy brass handle marked EMERGENCY RELEASE.
It was locked. A red light blinked: Mag-Lock Engaged. DNA Authorization Required.
"Open it," Julian ordered Gorse.
"I... I can't! It's biometric! If I release it during a Code Red, my neural implant will detonate!" Gorse was hyperventilating. "The Empire ensures loyalty!"
"Fine," Julian said. "I'll open it my way."
He placed his Resonance Gauntlet on the locking mechanism.
"Julian," Skid's voice crackled in his ear. "That lock is solidified Aether-steel. It's dense. If you push enough power to break it... the feedback might fry your arm."
"It's just an arm," Julian whispered.
He cranked the dial on his wrist to Maximum. The copper coils screamed. The crystal lens turned blinding white.
He didn't vibrate the lock. He overloaded it.
He poured every ounce of his anger into the machine. The anger at the slaves marching in the ash. The anger at the bullets made of bone. The anger at Blitz.
BREAK.
CRACK-ZAP.
The console exploded. Sparks showered the room. The brass lever snapped free of the lock.
Julian roared and hauled the lever down.
The Lake of Fire
A sound like a thunderclap echoed across the crater.
On the canyon wall, the massive winch gears disengaged. They spun freely, screaming as the tension released.
The colossal chain went slack.
In the lava lake, the Titan froze. It felt the weight vanish from its neck.
It raised its head.
It looked at the Spire. Then it looked at the troopers on the shore.
It didn't roar. It inhaled.
The level of the lava lake dropped two feet as the Titan sucked the heat directly into its maw. Its obsidian scales began to glow bright, angry orange.
Then, it exhaled.
A beam of concentrated plasma—pure, liquid fire—erupted from its mouth.
It swept the beam across the shore. The Magma-Troopers didn't have time to scream; they were vaporized instantly. The guard towers melted into puddles of slag.
Then, the Titan stepped forward.
It smashed the thermal exchange rig off its back, shaking free of the parasite machinery. It stomped onto the shore.
The Magma Strider was free.
The Command Spire
The entire tower shook violently as the Titan slammed its body against the base of the foundry.
"We have to go!" Lyra grabbed Julian. He was slumped over the ruined console, clutching his left arm. The gauntlet was smoking. His arm was numb, the blue corruption pulsing angrily beneath the sleeve.
"The slaves," Julian gasped. "Did Kaelen get them out?"
Isolde checked the monitors. "The riot broke the main gate! They're pouring out onto the salt flats! Kaelen is covering the rear!"
"Then we leave," Julian said.
They ran for the stairs. Administrator Gorse tried to follow them.
"Wait! Take me with you!"
The Titan slammed the tower again. The floor tilted. Gorse lost his footing and slid across the polished tile, crashing through the glass window.
His scream was lost in the roar of the volcano as he fell toward the lava below.
The Escape
They reached the scrap-yard where the White Raven was hidden just as the main fuel tanks of the foundry exploded.
Skid had the engines running hot. "Get in! The air is turning to poison!"
They scrambled up the ramp. Julian collapsed in the cargo hold, ripping the smoking gauntlet off his arm. His skin was burned, crisscrossed with glowing blue veins.
"Get us out of here!" Lyra shouted to the cockpit.
The White Raven lifted off, blasting through the smog cloud.
Julian dragged himself to the viewport.
Below them, Foundry-9 was gone. It was a lake of fire. The Titan stood in the center of the destruction, roaring at the sky. It wasn't a roar of victory. It was a roar of warning.
This land is mine, the thought echoed in Julian's mind. Fire cleanses.
"It's not joining us," Julian whispered. "It's staying here. To burn the Empire's factories."
"It's doing its job," Lyra said, kneeling beside him with a med-kit. "It's a Lock, Julian. You turned the key. Now the area is denied to the enemy."
Julian leaned his head against the cold glass.
"Four down," he murmured. "Three left."
"Where is the next one?" Isolde called from the pilot's seat. "Because I don't think we can top a volcano."
Julian closed his eyes, reaching out with the mask he had tucked in his coat. He felt the resonance of the network.
"The Ocean," Julian said weakly. "Titan 02. The Leviathan."
"Of course," Isolde groaned. "Underwater. Why is it always extreme weather with you?"
The Aftermath - Two Days Later
The White Raven hovered over a calm patch of the Rust-Sea, making repairs.
Julian sat on the edge of the open ramp, legs dangling over the red dunes. His left arm was bandaged. The corruption had stopped spreading for now, but the ache was permanent.
Lyra sat beside him.
"We saved thousands," Lyra said softly. "Kaelen radioed in. The slaves made it to the nomadic camps in the flats. They're free."
"We traded a prison for a wasteland," Julian said. "But at least they're free."
He looked at the map on his datapad.
"The Leviathan is deep. In the Abyssal Trench off the eastern coast. We'll need a submarine."
"Or," Isolde walked up, spinning a wrench. "We need a ship that becomes a submarine."
She pointed to the White Raven.
"She's airtight. If we reinforce the hull and swap the thrusters for hydro-jets... she can dive. But we need a dry-dock to do the conversion."
"There's one place," Julian said. "The Floating City of Pontus. It's a trade hub on the ocean. Neutral ground."
"Pontus?" Isolde frowned. "I'm banned from Pontus."
"Why?"
"I may have... accidentally... sunk the Mayor's yacht."
Julian managed a weak smile. "We'll apologize. Or we'll buy him a new one with the gold we have left."
He looked East, toward the distant smell of salt and water.
"To the ocean," Julian said. "Before the Empire realizes we're not dead."