The Rust Sprawl looked dead from the air.
From the skiff's forward window, Arden saw an ocean of metal and smoke. Refineries stitched together from a dozen timelines belched fire into a sky the color of old bruises. Towers leaned at wrong angles, welded from Devourer hull plates and collapsed skyscrapers. Rivers of chemical runoff cut through the wreckage, glowing faintly in the dark.
"Home sweet hell," Jian muttered.
"Anti‑air's hot," Olli said from the pilot's seat, fingers flying across holographic controls. "I'm seeing old Earth missile batteries, Devourer flak, and something that looks like a railgun built out of three train cannons and a prayer."
"They see us?" Kael asked.
"Not yet," Olli said. "But if we get any closer, they'll start asking for autographs."
"Put us down outside their range," Arden said. Her voice sounded different inside the helmet of the containment suit flat, metallic. "We sneak in."
