Sector 4 had always been the bruised rib of Aureus Prime. Even with the optimization protocols gone and the power restored, the shadows here were long. The buildings were patched with corrugated iron, and the streets were a maze of puddles and hanging wires.
But there was music.
Real music, not the screech of sirens. A street band was playing on a corner—drums made of plastic buckets, a flute made of pipe. Kids were dancing.
Julian parked the truck. Lyra stepped out, keeping her hand near her badge but her posture relaxed.
"This used to be a no-go zone," Lyra noted. "Even the Sentinels avoided it."
"Now it's a neighborhood," Julian said. He adjusted his Whisper-Touch glove. The green light on his wrist blinked steadily, confirming the tactile feedback system was active.
He walked through the crowd. People stopped. They stared at the black iron arm, the coat, the scar.
"It's the Warden," a vendor whispered.
A little boy ran up to Julian, holding a stick like a sword. He poked Julian's metal leg.
Clink.
"Are you a robot?" the boy asked.
"Half," Julian smiled. He reached into his pocket with his mechanical hand. The glove whirred, dampening the crushing force of the Anchor. He picked out a coin with delicate precision and flipped it to the boy. "Buy some candy. Don't eat the wrapper."
The Matron
The Sector 4 Orphanage was a converted warehouse. It had been painted a bright, defiant yellow.
Julian knocked on the door.
An elderly woman opened it. She looked like she had fought a war with poverty and won. She wiped flour from her hands.
"We don't need protection," she said immediately, eyeing Julian's size. "And we don't have money."
"I'm not selling anything," Julian said.
He held out the brass dog tag.
UNIT: SECTOR 4 ORPHANAGE.
NOTE: I WANT TO BE A PILOT.
The woman's expression softened. She took the tag.
"Where did you find this?"
"In a glass forest," Julian said. "About three hundred miles south."
"South?" The woman shook her head. "The wind must have carried it. That, or a bird."
"Does it belong to anyone here?"
"It belongs to Leo," the woman sighed. "She stamps them out on scrap metal and ties them to balloons. She says she's sending applications to the sky."
"Where is she?"
"Where she always is," the woman pointed a thumb upward. "On the roof. Trying to leave."
The Roof
Julian climbed the fire escape. The metal groaned under his weight, but held.
The roof was flat, covered in drying laundry and pigeon coops.
Sitting on the edge, legs dangling over the alley four stories down, was a girl.
She looked about fourteen. She wore a jacket that was too big for her—an old Imperial flight jacket with the patches ripped off. She held a pair of broken binoculars, staring at the distant, snow-capped mountains of the North.
Julian walked over. He made sure to step heavily so she would hear him.
She didn't jump. She just lowered the binoculars.
"You're heavy," she said without turning around. "The roof is vibrating."
"I ate a big lunch," Julian said.
He sat down next to her. Not too close. Just near enough to share the view.
"Nice jacket," Julian said.
"Found it," Leo said. "It belonged to a Sky-Knight. It smells like oil."
"Best smell in the world," Julian agreed.
He pulled the tag from his pocket and placed it on the ledge between them.
Leo looked at it. She touched it.
"My balloon popped," she whispered.
"It didn't pop," Julian said. "It landed. In a tree made of silver."
Leo looked at him then. She had sharp eyes. Intelligent eyes. Eyes that had seen too much ground and wanted to see the clouds.
"You're the Conductor," she said. "The one who stopped the noise."
"I'm Julian."
"Why did you bring my tag back? To tell me to stop littering?"
"No," Julian looked at the sky. "To answer the application."
The Interview
"You want to be a pilot," Julian said.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because down here..." Leo gestured to the slums below. "It's all walls. Walls to keep people out. Walls to keep people in. In the sky, there are no walls. You can go straight up."
"The sky used to be dangerous," Julian said. "Monsters lived there."
"They're gone now," Leo said. "You killed them."
"I evicted them," Julian corrected. "But the sky is still dangerous. Storms. Gravity shears. Vacuum."
He held up his black iron hand.
"I can't fly," Julian said. "I'm the Anchor. My job is to be heavy. To keep feet on the ground. But I have a ship."
Leo's eyes widened. "A ship?"
"The White Raven," Julian said. "It's an orbital-class interceptor. Fast. Mean. And currently sitting in my barn collecting dust because my hands are too big for the yoke."
He looked at Leo.
"I need someone to fly it."
Leo stared at him. She looked at the slums. She looked at the tag.
"Me?"
"You sent the application," Julian shrugged. "But there's a catch."
"What's the catch?"
"It's not free. You have to learn. You have to work. You have to scrub the engines until your hands bleed. You have to learn math, physics, and navigation. And you have to listen to my headmaster, Rivet, who yells a lot."
Leo stood up. She dusted off her oversized jacket.
"When do we start?"
"Right now," Julian stood up.
He held out his gloved hand.
Leo hesitated. She looked at the black metal fingers.
Then, she reached out and shook his hand.
Julian squeezed gently. The Whisper-Touch sensors adjusted perfectly. He didn't crush her fingers. He just shook on the deal.
"Pack your bag, kid," Julian said. "You're going to flight school."
The Departure
When they came down from the roof, the Matron was waiting with a small suitcase. She knew.
"You take care of her," the Matron told Julian. "If she gets hurt, I will find you. And I have a rolling pin."
"I believe you," Julian said respectfully.
Leo hugged the woman. Then she walked to the truck.
Lyra opened the door.
"New recruit?" Lyra asked.
"Pilot," Julian said. "Cadet Leo."
"Does she know how to fly?"
"She knows how to dream," Julian said. "We can teach the rest."
The Sunset Ride
They drove back toward the Scrapyard. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the Amber Road.
Leo sat in the back, looking out the window. She wasn't looking at the ground anymore. She was watching the first stars appear in the darkening violet sky.
Julian drove. His arm rested on the doorframe.
The hum of the Silent King in the earth was steady.
The hum of the Geo-Forge in the distance was productive.
The hum of the truck engine was reliable.
It was a symphony of reconstruction.
"Hey, Julian?" Leo asked from the back.
"Yeah?"
"Does the White Raven really go to orbit?"
"It goes as high as you want," Julian said.
"Can we go to the Moon?"
Julian looked at the Moon rising over the horizon. The place where the Surveyor had come from. The place where the Quarantine signal had ended.
"One day," Julian said. "We'll build a bridge."
He turned onto the dirt road leading to Vane & Rivet Academy. The lights of the shop were welcoming in the desert night.
The war was a memory. The rust was a resource. And the sky was open.
Julian smiled.
"But first," he said. "We fix the landing gear."