The sky above Mining-Star #30 looked like the end of the universe.
A hundred thousand miles of void-black storm clouds formed a colossal funnel that stretched across three planetary diameters. The upper atmosphere screamed as raw cosmic radiation tore through the magnetic field.
Inside the swirling vortex, thick tendrils of purple cosmic plasma and black antimatter lightning coiled like primordial dragons. The gravitational shear was so intense that loose pebbles on the mountain peaks began to float into the air.
Ten miles away from the Sovereign Aurora, drifting just outside the primary gravitational eddy, hovered an armored luxury shuttle.
The shuttle belonged to the private fleet of the Blood-Tax Star Chamber. Its observation deck was lined with panoramic crystal glass, providing a front-row seat to the impending catastrophe.
Inside the observation lounge, Commissioner Garrick stood near the wide window.
He was wrapped from head to toe in thick white medical bandages, looking like an ancient mummy that had recently escaped from a museum. Only his swollen, blackened nose and two bloodshot, vengeful eyes peeked through the gauze.
Beside him stood five high elders of the Blood-Tax Star Chamber. Each elder wore lavish crimson robes embroidered with gold-plated ledger chains.
