Blood on the Asphalt biker
The Citadel around us groaned as the power grid was pushed to its absolute breaking point.
And then, the alarms began to scream.
Not the internal security alarms of the building. These were the deep, planetary klaxons of the Board's Deep-Space listening posts.
Dax looked up at the ceiling, his hand drifting to the knife on his belt.
"Mia!" Dax shouted over the roaring of the servers. "The timeline just jumped again! They aren't seventy-two hours away!"
Through the glass ceiling of the subterranean chamber, a massive, holographic projection of the night sky flickered to life, fed by the city's exterior cameras.