The sky over the Dead-Zone was no longer a void; it was a graveyard in motion. The Apex Station, the crown jewel of the Orbital Council, had been the size of a small city. Now, it was a thousand jagged shards of titanium and smart-glass, screaming through the atmosphere in a chaotic, golden rain.
"They're not all dead," Kael grunted, shielding his eyes from the glare. "Look at the descent patterns. Those aren't just tumbling chunks of scrap. Those are Life-Sleds."
He was right. Among the burning wreckage, smaller, more controlled streaks of white fire were steering toward the salt flats. The Council members—the architects of our misery—were landing. They were soft-skinned and high-born, but they were guarded by the remaining "Purifiers" and equipped with the last of the world’s functiona
