The Rust-Sea was not a metaphor.
Centuries ago, this had been an ocean. Now, it was a desert of red dust—billions of tons of oxidized iron particles left behind when the water receded or boiled away.
The White Raven flew low over the dunes. The wake of its engines kicked up massive red clouds that looked like dried blood.
"There it is," Isolde pointed through the dust-streaked windshield. "Iron-Port."
It was a city built on the corpses of Leviathans.
Dozens of massive, ancient cargo ships lay beached in the rust-dunes, tilted at crazy angles. They were connected by a web of suspension bridges, ziplines, and welded walkways. Shantytowns clung to the hulls like barnacles. Smoke stacks rose from the decks, belching black soot into the red sky.
"It looks like a tetanus shot waiting to happen," Skid muttered, peering out the window.
"It's the free market at its finest," Isolde grinned, banking the ship toward a landing pad constructed on the flat deck of a sunken aircraft carrier. "No taxes. No Empire. No questions. As long as you have something to trade."
The Docks
They landed amidst a chaotic assortment of other vessels—scavenger skiffs, scrap-haulers, and retrofitted bombers.
"Keep your heads down," Isolde warned as they lowered the ramp. She threw a heavy poncho over her armor. "I know people here, but some of them might hold a grudge for a 'borrowed' engine part or two."
Julian pulled his collar up. He kept his crystal hand deep in his pocket, the Black-Iron ring securely on his finger. Lyra wore a nomadic scarf that covered everything but her eyes.
The heat hit them instantly. It wasn't the clean cold of the North; it was a dry, choking heat that smelled of sulfur, burning rubber, and unwashed bodies.
They walked onto the main thoroughfare—"The Spine"—which ran down the center of the aircraft carrier. It was a bustling bazaar of junk.
Stalls made of corrugated tin sold everything imaginable: jars of clean water, scavenged Aether cells, rusted weapons, and slabs of dubious meat grilling on engine blocks.
"We split up," Isolde whispered. "I'll go to the Dry-Docks to find the cooling units. Skid, you come with me to check the specs. Julian, Lyra... you get the supplies for your... project."
"Meet back at the ship in two hours," Julian nodded. "Don't start a war."
"No promises," Isolde winked, dragging Skid into the crowd.
The Bazaar of Bolts
Julian and Lyra moved through the throngs of scavengers. The people here were a motley crew—cyborgs with crude, rusted limbs; mutants with skin hardened like leather; and merchants shouting in a dozen dialects.
"What exactly are we looking for?" Lyra asked, her hand resting on the hidden pistol beneath her cloak.
"Conductive materials," Julian scanned the stalls. "My hand... it emits raw energy. It's like a shotgun blast. Powerful, but messy. And it hurts me."
He stopped at a stall selling piles of electronic debris.
"I need a lens," Julian explained. "Something to focus the frequency. To turn the shotgun into a sniper rifle."
He picked up a piece of metal—a silver tube etched with spiral grooves.
"What's this?"
The merchant, a hunchback with a mechanical third arm protruding from his chest, scurried over.
"Ah! Pre-War Flute!" the merchant rasped. "Very rare. Makes music!"
Julian ran his thumb over the metal. It hummed faintly.
"It's Acoustic Silver," Julian whispered to Lyra. "It resonates perfectly without heating up. The Ancients used it for instruments... and sonic weaponry."
"How much?" Julian asked.
"Five hundred credits," the merchant greased.
"I don't have credits," Julian said. He pulled a small gold bar from his pocket—part of the loot from the Silver Courier.
The merchant's eyes widened. He snatched the gold. "Sold! And I throw in the box!"
Julian took the silver tube. "Step one."
They continued deeper into the market. Julian bought coils of pure copper wire, a focusing crystal from a dismantled laser drill, and a heavy gauntlet made of lead-lined leather.
"You're building a glove," Lyra realized.
"A Resonance Gauntlet," Julian corrected. "I want to channel the output. If I can focus the vibration into a beam, I can cut through steel from a distance. And the lead lining will protect my own arm from the backlash."
They were passing an alleyway between two shipping containers when a shadow blocked their path.
Three large men stepped out. They wore armor made of tires and scrap metal. They held jagged lengths of pipe and chains.
"Lost, tourists?" the leader sneered. He had a brand on his forehead: a skull with a gear. The Rust-Jackals.
"We're just shopping," Julian said calmly, tightening his grip on the bag of parts.
"Shopping requires a toll," the leader swung his chain. "The gold bar you gave the merchant. We saw it. Hand over the rest."
Lyra stepped forward, her cloak falling back to reveal her pistol. "Walk away."
"Ooh, she bites," the leader laughed. The other two flanked them. "I like biters."
Julian put a hand on Lyra's shoulder. "Wait."
He looked at the leader.
"You want gold?" Julian asked.
"Give it here."
Julian reached into his pocket. But he didn't pull out gold. He pulled out the Acoustic Silver tube.
He held it up to his lips like a whistle.
"You might want to cover your ears," Julian whispered.
He blew into the tube.
But he didn't just blow air. He sent a tiny, focused pulse of Resonance through his lips and into the silver.
WHEEEEEEEEEEE.
The sound that came out wasn't loud. It was high.
It was a dog whistle from hell. A concentrated ultrasonic beam aimed directly at the leader.
The leader dropped his chain. He clutched his head, screaming silently. His eyes rolled back. His equilibrium shattered. He stumbled sideways and vomited, collapsing into a heap of scrap.
The other two thugs stared at their boss, then at the small silver tube in Julian's hand.
"It vibrates the inner ear fluid," Julian explained casually, twirling the tube. "Makes the world spin. Who's next?"
The thugs scrambled backward, dragging their retching leader away into the shadows.
Lyra looked at Julian, impressed. "You took him down with a flute."
"It's all about the frequency," Julian pocketed the tube. "Come on. I have everything I need. Let's go build this thing."
The Dry-Dock
They returned to the White Raven. Isolde and Skid were already there, supervising the installation of massive intake fans onto the ship's hull.
"We got the cooling units," Skid called out, wiping grease from her face. "Cost us three bars of gold, but these babies will keep the engine frosty even in a volcano."
"And we got the parts," Julian said, patting his bag.
He went straight to the ship's workbench.
For the next six hours, Julian worked.
He stripped the leather gauntlet. He wound the copper wire into intricate induction coils. He mounted the Acoustic Silver tube along the forearm, aligning it with the palm. He set the focusing crystal into the center of the palm.
He wired it all together, not with solder, but with his own resonance, fusing the connections at a molecular level.
Finally, it was done.
It looked crude but dangerous. A heavy, industrial gauntlet bristling with coils and silver piping, with a lens in the palm that looked like an unblinking eye.
"Ready to test it?" Skid asked, hovering nervously.
Julian slid his crystal hand into the gauntlet. It fit perfectly. The lead lining felt cool and secure.
He activated his power.
Instead of the usual chaotic blue flare that engulfed his whole arm, the energy flowed smoothly into the copper coils. They lit up with a hum. The energy traveled down the silver tube and gathered in the crystal palm-lens.
A small, perfectly stable sphere of blue light hovered over his palm.
"It's stable," Julian whispered.
He pointed his palm at a scrap metal plate across the room.
PUSH.
He released a focused beam.
THWUMP.
There was no explosion. No fire.
A perfectly circular hole, three inches wide, punched through the metal plate. The edges were smooth, as if the metal had simply ceased to exist.
"Sonic Lance," Julian named it. "Silent. Precise."
He clenched his fist. The light died down.
"We're ready," Julian said, turning to the crew. "Set a course for the Jungle. I want to see if the Empire can dodge this."