The crimson vapor pouring from the ceiling vents was not standard tear gas or military nerve agent. It was an aerosolized solution of man-made batrachotoxin combined with void-mutated mycotoxins harvested from the deep-sea fungal gardens of Sector 4. The gas had been engineered to target motor endplates, causing instant muscular tetany and breathing total numbness within seconds of skin contact. Even through the heavy seals of their sky suits, the acid-burning vapor began to etch into the rubber rings with a dark chemical hiss. That left blistered streaks along the baked-clay chest plates.
Arthur Vance stood motionless in the center of the hall. His mind ran with the icy calm distance of a trauma surgeon facing a total blood rupture. He didn’t panic. Panic increased heart output, speeding up the breath flow of toxins through the bloodstream. His eyes scanned the room, calculating the volume of the hall and the rate of air shifted weight.
“Valerie, purge your intake valves and switch to closed-circuit internal oxygen,” Arthur commanded. His voice steady and was calm. “Don’t draw surrounding air. The mycotoxins will digest man-made filter paper in less than thirty seconds. Titus, anchor our air!”
The giant dark rock tortoise moved with practiced smooth speed. Titus drove his heavy foreclaws into the heavy glass tiles beneath his feet, shattering the top layer and anchoring his weight into the load-bearing steel beams below. A low, ringing hum came from his shell as he projected his Earth-shaking Gravitational Seal. The heavy crimson gas…
