GRIND-CRUNCH-ROAR!
Inside the transmission chamber of the thirty-mile Ancient War-Moon Fortress, black iron gears the size of castles ground against each other with a shower of red sparks as the Blood-Moon Monarch slammed the gearstick into reverse.
“Back up! Back up!” the Monarch screamed, stomping his boot onto the reverse accelerator pedal so hard his heel dented the floorboard. “Dump all remaining blood-fuel into the front braking thrusters! Get us out of this cursed star belt before they turn the rest of my moon into public toilets!”
“Your Majesty, the reverse thrusters are firing at 150% capacity!” Elder Blood-Eye shouted, hanging onto the navigation wheel for dear life as the giant iron moon shuddered and began sliding backward toward the spatial rift above Planet 50. “Wait—the Golden-Crow dashboard meter says reversing at high speed costs double mileage! We’re burning ten million Spirit Stones of debt every second!”
“Put it on Deacon Scorch-Wing’s tab! Just get us through the spatial rift!”
Outside in the starry void, the twelve massive rear engines of the War-Moon Fortress shut down, while twenty-four auxiliary reverse nozzles around its northern hemisphere erupted with dark crimson fire. Slowly at first, and then faster and faster, the thirty-mile iron war machine began backing away from Toll Booth #40, leaving a trail of thick black exhaust smoke across the clean golden highway lanes.
