The emergency priority klaxon didn’t blare down in Sector Zero. It screamed through Toby Mallow’s tactical radio receiver with a high-pitched, piercing digital squeal.
“Arthur! Look at the master sky tracking data!” Toby shouted, shoving his glowing data slate into Arthur’s field of view.
Across the screen, a red blueprint of the Citadel’s uppermost stone-built spire was pulsing with violent crimson warning flags.
Self-running FAILSAFE ENGAGED: PROJECT AERO-GENESIS. LOCATION: SPIRE APEX Pipe system (Height +12,400 METERS). Main TURBINES: PRE-Starting Crushing AT 28,000 RPM. PAYLOAD: 5,000 LITERS LIQUID CORDYCEPS MUTAGEN. DISPERSAL VECTOR: NORTHERN High-sky JET STREAM. TIME TO Air-powered INJECTION: 06:42... 06:41...
Arthur’s jaw tightened into iron. “Nyx’s post-mortem dead-man trigger. If the Apostle ceases biometric vital signs, the Citadel automatically purges its chemical payload into the upper air.”
“If that engine vents into the jet stream at twelve thousand meters, it will circle the globe in forty-eight hours!” Toby gasped, his face turning pale beneath his grease smudges. “It will rain viable mutagenic spores over five continents! Every civilian settlement, every livestock ranch, every wild beast hall from here to the Atlantic will be mutated into feral chimeras!”
“Ross, maintain the security outer edge around Sector Zero with your riflemen,” Arthur commanded, unholstering his ARC-7 Mag-Carbine. “Dr. Calder, continue post-op steadying on the nursery. Cell Alpha and Echo, with me. We’re going to the roof.”
