For the first time since the sky burned red over Coldwater, the Vanguard slept.At fifty thousand feet, suspended above the swirling, irradiated ash clouds of the Pacific, the fused super-city of Neo-Angeles and Neo-Tokyo drifted in absolute silence. Down in the pristine durasteel spherical layers of our original Ark, the heavy iron bikers and the Paladins collapsed on cots, in the seats of their crawlers, or simply on the floor.But for a hacker, "downtime" is just an excuse to dissect the enemy's hardware.We had commandeered a massive, neon-lit chop-shop in the lower industrial wards of Neo-Tokyo. It was originally a maintenance bay for the Cyber-Ronin, lined with heavy hydraulic lifts and automated surgical-welding arms."The metallurgy on this liquid-chrome is staggering," my father, Chen Wei, muttered, adjusting his cracked glasses. He was elbow-deep in the chassis of a deactivated Ronin, tracing a pulsing magenta power conduit. "It doesn't just absorb kinetic impact; it dynamic
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