The lightning attack formed before the orbital systems could recalibrate.
Francis had spent the last several minutes tracing each cannon's position through the pattern of its attacks — the angle of descent, the millisecond delay between volleys, the slight drift in trajectory as the platform repositioned above the cloud layer.
He had mapped them the same way a surgeon maps a body. Not by looking, but by understanding.
Now he had enough.
He released everything at once.
On board the Epsilon's command deck, Lucien Ark watched the pillar breach the thermosphere on his display and felt something he hadn't felt since the kings were killed.
Alarm.
"Sub-cannons, adjust bearing — now."
His staff moved without question.
Distance saved them. The column of lightning passed several kilometers wide, and the sub-cannons, still repositioning from their last volley, managed to clear the projected impact zone with seconds to spare. For a single breath, the bridge exhaled.
Then it detonated.
