The final blast door does not explode. It surrenders.
The three-foot-thick titanium, already weakened by the thermal lances and the melting slag of the previous siege, simply folds inward. It buckles like wet cardboard, groaning with a horrific, metallic shriek that vibrates in my teeth.
Then, the Architect Commander steps through the ruined threshold.
It is not like the Praetorians. It is not like the Siege-Breakers. It stands nearly nine feet tall, its liquid armor a sleek, iridescent obsidian that seems to absorb the dim, flickering light of the bunker. Its visor is a single, seamless curve of polished black glass. It does not carry a rifle. It does not carry a melee weapon.
It carries the singularity drive.
The device floats just above the Commander’s open palm, a sphere of distor
