Blood on the Asphalt biker
But sitting in the mud beside the smoking crater where the Avatar of Sol had launched, Dax and I weren't celebrating.
I stared at the blinking red notification on the cracked screen of my data-deck. The Origin-Code in my veins, still humming from the massive sub-ether transfer, felt suddenly cold.
"Play it, Ghost," Dax said quietly, his voice a low gravel beneath the roar of the celebrating crowd. He didn't take his eyes off the sky.
I tapped the screen, breaking the encryption on the old-world Board frequency.
The audio file didn't burst out with the frantic, degrading rage of the Founder we had just killed. It was crisp, synthesized, and terrifyingly calm.