I could see silhouettes now. They were moving fairly quick, particularly the Nemean Titan. But Ophion was there too. Recuperated and ready, with a creation on either side of him.

And behind them, I saw her. Like a thin mountain, moving at an unhurried pace, not because she was slow, but because she had no need to rush.

“Wishing you luck,” Shamrock said, giving Sveta a wave.

“You too,” Sveta said.

The two jogged off, to reunite with Palanquin and the other Case Fifty-Threes.

“You guys couldn’t have said that, like, any time before now?” Sveta asked, quiet enough I was probably the only one who heard it. “Or talked to them? Or done anything productive?”

I gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“I know, focus,” she said. “I’m being dumb.”

“No,” I told her. “That’s not what I was trying to do there. You’re not being dumb.”

That slim mountain in the background had eyes now. Slivers and ovals of gold. I could make out the wolf heads.

“Fuck you, Contessa.”

Titan Fortuna was moving slower than the other two. By the original timetable, she was due to arrive. It just looked like the other ones were going to hit us first.

Legend opened fire. One beam at first, then five, maybe, then twenty, and then a hundred, producing so many that there was nothing forward-facing that could emit a beam, so he sent them backwards, turning at sharp angles in the air until they were aimed at the right target.

I’d wondered what happened when Fortuna was confronted with something she couldn’t dodge. I got to see it here. She simply took the damage head-on.

“I should go get my gun,” I told the others. Told Sveta.

“I saw some tinkers climbing all over it,” Tristan said. “Couldn’t look away from my work long enough to yell at them, sorry. Have to be careful with my current setup, or I’ll send debris all over the place and brain someone.”

“Fuck,” I said, already far enough away I could barely hear him.

I wasted no time flying over to get my gun and found two tinkers picking over it like vultures. One was a teenager, one a guy who was closer to my dad’s age.

“Did you mess with it?” I asked.

“Fixed the housing some,” the teenager said. “Had to run sample testing a few times to figure out the emitter dynamics for the shell.”

“Sealed the metal close to the laser thingy,” the man said, gruff.

I gave him a look, eyebrow raised.

“I’m not going to give you mumbo-jumbo,” he said. “We’re about to get stomped by those Titans, I’m old, and anything I say that approximates what I understand about this garbage isn’t going to mean shit to you anyway.”

“So… yes?” I asked. “You messed with it.”

“Is it Dragon’s?” the teenager asked, bright-eyed. “It feels like it’s Dragon’s.”