The night sky above Pyrros caught fire.
Ferraclysm's orbital platforms released their first volley at eleven minutes past eleven, and the projectiles came down through the clouds in long white streaks, each one carrying enough force to flatten a city block. From the command deck of the Iron Dominion, high over the canyon, they looked almost gentle. Falling stars, drifting toward a cluster of lights on the rim of a gorge.
Maxwell watched them all the way down.
"Impact," his weapons officer said. "Direct hits on the target. All six."
On the main display, the hotel on the canyon rim vanished inside a bloom of white light.
Then the light cleared, and the hotel was still there.
