Captain Shaw squeezed the trigger of the detonator.
A blinding flash of pure white energy eradicated the shadows across the Monroe Street plaza. The chemical explosive packed beneath the titanium undercarriage ignited with terrifying velocity. Four thousand degrees of fire bloomed against the belly of the dead mobile fortress.
The snow covering the asphalt vaporized instantly. A thick cloud of boiling steam rushed across the intersection.
General Varga stood behind the safety of a rusted city bus on Lexington Avenue. He lowered his polarized goggles over his eyes to watch the execution. He expected the metal of the Leviathan to buckle and slag. He wanted to see the molten titanium pour onto the street like a metallic river.
The engineers who planted the charges scrambled backward. They
