REVOLUTION SEVENTEENMiles above the earth, steel irises opened, exposing the perfect mirrors beneath to the coldness of space. Rotors turned. Long, rectangular panels unfolded and tilted to catch the sun. Daybreak Three glimmered like a mechanical butterfly in the dark. Beams of light raced from the satellite through the unsuspecting night, creating a shining line of deadly, artificial dawn.
Far below, Xindra ran; a glowing white blur following the narrow path of light across the rubble-choked street. The eye filters in her mission suit kicked in as she glanced at her pursuers.
The Goth soldiers were engulfed in flames. One frantically unfurled its giant bat-like wings, the grafted appendages flapping in a vain attempt to take to the air. She kept running, thankful for the millimeters of
