The colossal Ironwood dreadnought was functionally complete. It possessed the blazing solar thrusters to pierce the vacuum of space, the absolute void to shield it from cosmic radiation, and an infinite hydrostatic tether to keep the living hull from petrifying.
But a flagship is only a vessel. The true objective of the Warlord's Council was cosmic architecture. They were flying into the dark to fix broken worlds.
Inside the massive central cargo hold of the dreadnought, Zenith was running his final diagnostic. The twelve-year-old Architect stood in the center of the wooden room, his celestial steel Logic Rod spinning rapidly in his hands. He was compiling and projecting dozens of massive, neon-green holographic structures: atmospheric scrubbers, gravitational anchors, and planetary shields.
A heavy, metallic footstep echoed against the Ironwood deck.
