The extreme northern perimeter of the Iron District loomed out of the dense morning fog like a mechanical cage. High fences of rusted chain-link and jagged barbed wire stretched across the landscape, cutting the industrial border away from the untamed wilderness. The thick smell of motor oil and decaying iron hung heavily in the freezing morning breeze, mixed with the sharp scent of damp earth rising from the muddy ground. A series of reinforced concrete watchtowers stood like dead sentinels along the dividing line, their searchlights dark and their electronic scanning arrays completely silent. Zeven pulled the heavy black cloak tighter around his broad shoulders, his boots sinking into the wet mud as he approached the base of the towering obstacle. The internal carbon mesh of the fabric r
