Vane pulled the lever on the maintenance hatch. The iron groaned, the seal breaking with a sharp hiss of escaping steam. The air that rushed into the vent was not hot. It was a freezing, dry gale that carried the scent of absolute zero. He dropped from the ceiling, his star-steel spear already clicking into its full length mid-air. He landed on a narrow catwalk forty feet above the floor of the Iron Cathedral.
Ashe, Valerica, and Isole landed in a tight formation behind him. They didn't need orders. They immediately fanned out, their eyes scanning the massive circular chamber. The Cathedral was a masterpiece of frozen industry. Massive, multi-story gears were locked in place by thick pillars of translucent ice. The vertical pistons, which should have been thumping with the rhythm of the floor, stood silent like the pillars of a dead god.
