The Bureau of Multiverse Affairs

Chapter 13
The Iron Jaws

Although the Flying Legion had many great engineers, Dexter Dearborn was by far their best. In his time, he had designed and built some of the most cutting-edge technology of the 20th Century, which had served the Legion well. Yet as he stood in his workshop, studying the banks of crystal radios and cathode-ray tubes of the interdimensional transmitter crackling and sparking, he could not help but worry. Valves and wires had to be replaced regularly, but at least he had assistants for that. The main problem was keeping the whole system tuned to Moriarty's signal. He had to keep adjusting a dial and turn different switches on and off constantly, all while jotting down coordinates on a notepad. So far he had half the numbers, but that was not enough to get the team into Moriarty's pocket universe.

It was then that another sound caught his attention. It was distant, but undeniably loud. Soon after there was shouting from outside.
"Jackson," he said to one of the assistants, keeping his eyes fixed on the television screen in front of him, "Go see what's happening."
"Sure Dex," the assistant replied.
The man hurried out into the hangar next door, only to run back in almost straight away.
"Dex! You've gotta see this!"
"I can't leave the radio," he replied sharply.
"I'll keep it tuned. Trust me, you need to see this."

Reluctantly Dexter let Jackson take his place in front of the radio and hurried out into the hangar. For a moment he was confused as to what the assistant was talking about, then looked through the open doors and nearly swallowed his chewing gum in shock.
In the sky above the base was a portal, larger than any of the ones the Luteces or Elizabeth had created. It had to be at least a mile wide and almost the same in height. Through it, a dark sky could be seen, from which hundreds of spherical objects flew out from. All of them were heading toward the base, each sporting an angry red dot on the front.

"Dex! Dex what's going on?"
Captain Sullivan ran to his side, slightly out of breath and looking fearful.
"I don't know," Dexter answered, "But if I were to guess, I'd say it's Moriarty's counterattack."
A siren began to wail and the Legion's troops headed for the defensive positions around the base, readying their guns.
"Have you managed to send the coordinates for Moriarty's base to Shepard?" Sullivan asked.
"I've only got about half the numbers needed to chart a course there," Dexter replied with a sense of dread.

"How much time do you need for the rest?"
"As much as you can give me."
Sullivan turned to Dexter and smiled.
"We'll give you all we can."
"Thanks Cap',"
Dexter turned on his heels and ran back to his workshop. By now the spherical objects had closed the distance between the portal and the base, and were no more than a few seconds from striking.
"You!" Sullivan shouted at a nearby mechanic, "Get my plane ready, I'm going up."

•

The smog-filled air pressed in from all sides, thick and almost impenetrable. Still, the three cargo barges flew onward and upward through the factories of Finkton, their crews still and silent. At the bow of the lead craft, Booker Dewitt knelt, eyes fixed ahead, waiting to spot anything in their path, a shotgun in hand and pistol stuffed in his belt.
"To port! To port!" he whispered as a brick wall loomed up through the brownish haze.
The warning was passed back to the pilot at the stern of the barge and the craft turned to avoid the wall. The two barges behind followed suit, their engines grumbling gently.

"Okay," he whispered again, "Straight up."
The craft levelled out and rose. Booker took a few shallow breaths, trying not to inhale too much of the foul air. Daisy had tasked him with taking out the artillery guns which blocked the airships' escape route from Shantytown, a difficult mission, but an important one. Columbia's security forces and their collector allies had begun attacking the Vox's barricades soon after Shepard and Benton's teams had left. While Daisy had faith in her troop's fighting ability, she knew they could only hold out for so long. Once they broke through, Comstock's forces would unleash a brutal terror on the people of Shantytown.

To that end, the Vox had commandeered as many airships and hovercraft as they could, which would be used to transport civilians to the surface. The only problem was that the route from Shantytown's docks to the open sky was a narrow corridor of buildings, with factories and worker's houses on each side. Somewhere above them was an artillery battery, which would easily take out any craft that left the protection of the buildings. Booker's mission, therefore, was to silence the guns and prevent Columbia's security forces from retaking them. For this, he had been supplied with 30 Vox populi fighters and three cargo barges, each fitted out with rocket launchers and heavy machine guns. It was a formidable arsenal, and Booker knew that the Vox Populi could hold their own in a fight, but so could Columbia Security.

He tightened his grip on the shotgun. Now was not the time for doubt. That sort of thing got a person killed.
The haze of smog began to thin out and blue sky became visible overhead.
"Head for the rooftop to starboard," Booker ordered, pointing up at a nearby factory, "We'll scout out the enemy's positions from there.

Once again the order was passed down the craft. Normally Booker could have just shouted to the pilot, but the area they were heading through had been overrun by Comstock's troops the previous day. While most of his forces were focused on hitting Shantytown, Booker was painfully aware that it would only take one random patrol reporting them in to ruin their ambush.
After what felt like an eternity, the cargo barge drew level with the edge of the rooftop.

"Stay here," Booker ordered as he borrowed a sniper rifle from one of the crew, "Don't move until I return."
"Shouldn't I come with you?" Elizabeth asked.
"No, one person's a lot harder to see than two," he countered.
When Daisy had given him the mission, Booker had wanted Elizabeth to stay with the Normandy, but the young woman had firmly refused.
"We've been through hell together Mr. DeWitt, and you know I can help."

In the end, he bowed to the pressure and told her to come, but he still could not help but feel uneasy about it. Not only was there a danger of her being killed or wounded in a firefight, there was also a possibility that Songbird could appear.
Booker shuddered at the mere memory. When he had first seen the giant mechanical bird, he had almost cried out in terror. That fear had only become worse when he learned it was Elizabeth's jailer, and would do anything to get her back.

Suppressing his fears as best he could, Booker stepped off the cargo barge and onto the edge of the building. The roof was a pitched design, with a narrow flat section at the bottom, giving a person just enough space to walk around. Booker had ordered the barges to head for the factory after leaving Shantytown, as it was the highest building in the district and gave them a clear view of the artillery battery. However, it also meant that the roof was very exposed and wind-swept. Though he stayed low and kept one hand against the brickwork, Booker could not help but feel as if he were about to be swept off the edge by a strong gust of wind.

"Keep it together," he grumbled.
Forcing himself to keep moving, Booker headed around to the other side of the roof. Here the sky was mostly free of brownish smog, with the buildings of Columbia floating gently among patches of cloud. It would have been serene, were it not for the dull booms that punctuated the air. Looking over the edge of the building, Booker saw a large rectangular platform where the artillery battery was positioned. There were four guns in total, heavy naval models from the look of them, each mounted on a round platform set in a row. Every so often one would fire, sending a shell sailing into the buildings of Shantytown, the blast echoing across the sky.

Shouldering the sniper rifle, Booker peered down its scope to get a closer look at the battery. Each of the guns had a protective cover, sheltering its crew, while security troops supplied them with shells. Behind the guns was a road, lined with a parade of shops and bars, all of which seemed to be occupied by security forces. Still looking down the scope, Booker inspected the defences around the battery. At one end of the platform was a docking area, piled high with wooden ammunition crates and carts weighed down by shells. Beside it was a wall of sandbags, where a few security troops were positioned with a heavy machine gun.

At the other end of the platform was a suspension bridge which linked it to another district, barricaded with more sandbags, overturned wagons and tables. Behind the barricade were a few security troops, who looked more bored than anything else. Clearly they were not expecting an attack.

Booker drew his eye away from the scope to get a view of the whole area. Just above the battery he could see a pair of metal rails which rounded the buildings and followed the bridge. It was part of the sky-line, a railway used to move cargo around the city. It was possible for an individual to travel around on it as well, if they were brave or reckless enough to use a sky-hook.

"Moot point anyway," Booker thought to himself, "You lost your own one when you raided Comstock House."
It was a shame really, as being able to move around on the sky-line was useful in a fight.
He turned his attention back to the matter at hand. There were more buildings floating on the battery's left flank which would give them cover, but attacking from that side meant they'd be running into the heavy machine gun position. He checked the sky in front of the battery and beside the bridge, but it was all fully exposed. Any craft they sent there would be blown out of the sky long before they reached the platform.

"Unless we can distract them," he thought.
An idea began to form in his head and he scrambled back to the cargo barge.
"What did you see?" a dark-skinned Vox commander called Jim asked Booker as he stepped back on board.
"They're pretty dug in," he replied, handing the sniper rifle back, "They've got the docking area and bridge locked down, but I think I know a way to beat 'em."
"Let's hear it?"
"There's buildings that give us cover all the way up to the dock. I take one squad and attack there and draw as many of Comstock's boys to me as I can. Meanwhile, you take the other two squads, sneak around and hit them from the rear."

"Splitting our forces is a big risk, plus we'll be flying through open sky, and they have big guns."
"I know, but it's our best bet. Besides, they'd never dream that someone would be crazy enough to do something like this."
Jim chuckled under his breath.
"If you were anyone else, I'd tell you to go to hell, but you've already pulled off the impossible by breaking outta Comstock House."

Clapping Booker on the shoulder, Jim headed down the cargo barge and climbed onto the one behind to inform the other squads about the plan.
"Alright," Booker said, waving his arm to the pilot, "Drop down and fly behind the buildings up ahead until I say stop."

The barge's controls clattered and there was a brief sensation of weightlessness as it began to descend back down the wall before flying toward a cluster of apartment blocks.
"Do you think this will work?" Elizabeth asked, a hint of worry in her voice.
"We've got plenty of firepower and good troops," Booker replied, "We'll deal with those guns."

Elizabeth smiled. Booker just hoped he could live up to his words.
Carefully the three cargo barges made their way behind the floating buildings. Leaving the factories of Finkton meant the air was free of smog and easier to breathe, but it also meant they were visible for miles. As such, they had to fly low and quickly, hoping they would not be noticed. Luckily the security troops were more interested in shelling Shantytown, and the three craft reached the building just before the docking area without a shot being fired.

"Right," Booker said, looking back to address Jim, "Stay here until you hear gunshots, then move as fast as you can."
"Don't worry Booker, the Vox commander replied, "I won't leave you twisting in the wind."
"I'll hold you to that."
Booker gestured an upward motion to the pilot and the barge began to rise.

"Get ready everyone," he said to his own squad of Vox fighters. "Remember to pick your targets and spread out. The last thing we need is to lose the lot of you to a single grenade burst."
"Yes Citizen," the fighters replied in unison.
The sound of metallic clicking filled the air as weapons were loaded and cocked.
"You ready?" Booker asked Elizabeth.
"Yeah," she replied, "Just yell when you need supplies."
"Got it."

One of the smaller but very useful parts of Elizabeth's powers was that she was able to draw objects from other universes, which included weapons and ammunition. In a number of firefights, it had already meant the difference between life and death.
Readying his own shotgun, Booker looked up to see the edge of the docking area just metres above him.
"Ready?" he shouted.
"Ready!" the Vox fighters replied.

With a whoosh of air, the cargo barge drew level with the docking area, where a very shocked Columbia security soldier stood gawking at the sudden arrival. He reached for his rifle, but Booker's shotgun spoke first, catching him full in the chest, the report echoing loudly off the buildings.
Instantly the bored-looking security troops around the dock whipped around, barking panicked orders.
"IT'S THE VOX!"
"STOP 'EM!"
"DRIVE 'EM BACK!"
"MOVE IT!" Booker yelled.

With bullets zipping all around, the Vox fighters jumped from the barge and onto the dock. Some were cut down, but others dived for cover behind the stacks of boxes and returned fire, filling the air with the stutter and crack of guns. Booker was kneeling behind a crate when a large part of it was blown apart by a burst of machine gunfire. Taking a split-second look, he saw the heavy machine gun cut a wide arc across the dock.

"Elizabeth! Stay with me!" he bellowed, "We need to take out that machine gun!"
"On it!" she shouted back.
Raising his shotgun, Booker let off a series of quick shots at the sandbagged emplacement and charged at it. A security soldier on his flank took aim with his submachine gun, but there was a sudden flash and an omnibus appeared out of thin air, blocking his shot.
"Nice one!" Booker said to Elizabeth, her hand still raised to maintain the tear that had brought the object to this reality.

With his path clear, he ran at full pelt, firing round after round. A soldier behind the sandbags tried to swing the heavy machine gun around to face him, but was blown away by a storm of buckshot, as was a second. A third soldier tried to run, but he had barely turned before Booker had leaped over the sandbags and struck him across the back of the head with the shotgun.
The heavy machine gun's crew had been taken out, but there was no time to celebrate.

Immediately the other security troops began to rally, bringing a vicious storm of gunfire against Booker and his Vox fighters. Scrambling behind the sandbags, Elizabeth tried to pull in more supplies with her powers, but she could not lessen the attacker's resolve. Hastily reloading, Booker took aim again, when he heard a grumble of gears and saw the heavy gun at the end of the row being turned around, to face the dock.

"They're mad!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "They'll kill themselves if they fire that thing at the platform!"
"I don't think they've thought that far ahead!" Booker replied.
He fired a round and another, but to no effect.

Then, just as the dark barrel of the gun came into view, the sound of gunfire suddenly redoubled. Screams and panicked shouts filled the air. Risking another look, Booker saw Vox Populi fighters climbing over the barricade in front of the bridge, Jim in the vanguard.
"COME ON PIGGIES!" he screamed, "LET'S SEE YOU DANCE!"

Caught between the docks and the bridge, the remaining security troops tried to run for the buildings, but none made it more than a few metres before being cut down.
The last echo of gunfire dissipated, and Booker climbed out from the machine gun nest to observe the aftermath. Almost half the Vox fighters he had landed with had been killed or wounded, but it seemed that Jim's squads had suffered minimal losses in their assault. The security troops meanwhile had been wiped out, their bodies scattered across the cobblestones.

"We did it!" Jim declared, "We did it!"
"Now make sure we finish it!" said Booker, "Get your men on that barricade. Comstock's men will counter-attack the moment they find out this position has fallen."
"Will do Booker!" Jim replied, before addressing his troops, "You heard him, get on that barricade!"
The Vox fighters quickly obeyed the order, taking up positions around the end of the bridge, weapons trained on the far side.

"Daisy!" Booker said, activating his radio, "Daisy do you read? it's Booker!"
"I read you Booker," Daisy's voice crackled back, "What's the news?"
"We just took out the artillery guns, you can start moving your people out!"
"Good. Make sure those guns remain in our hands. I'll contact you when the civilians have gotten to safety."
"Got it, good luck."
"Same to you Booker."

The radio fell silent, and Booker turned his attention to his own troops. Jim's men were setting up the heavy machine gun from the docks on the bridge barricade, while the fighters he had led were tending to their wounded. Elizabeth was kneeling beside one, helping to bandage his bleeding arm.
"This might sting a bit," she said, dabbing some disinfectant on the man's wound.
"Just get on with it," he grumbled.
Booker was about to comment that she was doing a good job, when an ear-splitting screech filled the air.

Ice flooded his veins. He knew the sound all too well.
"Booker…" Elizabeth said, her eyes large and terrified.
Spinning around, Booker saw something fly up in front of the artillery guns. It was a monstrous form, with vast wings and a mechanical body, a long-pointed head and red glowing eyes.
"Songbird…" Elizabeth said in a shaky voice, "He's come for me."
"Get inside!" Booker shouted, "Everyone inside!"

The Vox fighters did not need to be told twice. Dragging the wounded, they hurried into the buildings behind the artillery battery. Booker and Elizabeth rushed into the middle building, coming to an open plan barroom full of crates, just as the whole structure shook violently.
"Where did that thing come from?" gasped one of the Vox fighters.
"Clearly these guns are more important than we thought," Booker replied.

He looked to Elizabeth, who was pale and shaking. They both knew that the real reason the bird was here was her. When Comstock had kept Elizabeth imprisoned, Songbird had been her jailer and protector, and it would not leave without her.
There was another ear-splitting screech and the building shook violently, knocking several people to the ground.

"What the hell was that?" said a Vox fighter.
"That monster must have crashed into the building," said another, "It's gonna tear this place apart!"
"We've gotta take it out!"
"How? We haven't got anything powerful enough!"

Booker looked around the room, hoping for an answer. A number of the boxes had been knocked open, scattering weapons with a large stumpy barrel, mounted on a spring and set on a shoulder mount across the floor. A rocket launcher.
"I've got an idea," he said, "Anyone got a sky-hook?"
"Here," said a Vox fighter, taking what looked like a mechanical claw from his belt.
"Much obliged," Booker replied.

He slipped the claw over his arm. The device had a metal and wood handle that rapped around his forearm, and three long metal teeth.
"What are you doing?" said Elizabeth.
"I'm gonna finish that thing off," Booker replied, stuffing extra rockets into his belt and hoisting the launcher over his shoulder. "I'll use the sky-line to get away from here and take out that monster with this."
"You can't be serious?"

The was an all-mighty crash as Songbird threw itself against the building, causing a large crack to appear on the wall.
"That thing won't stop until I kill it," Booker said.
"And what if he kills you?"
A sinking feeling came over Booker, but he pushed it aside.
"It's him or me. If… if something happens, stay with the Vox and just get back to the Normandy."
"I won't leave without you."
Booker placed a hand on the young woman's cheek.
"Just promise me whatever happens, you'll stay free."
A tear trickled down Elizabeth's face.
"Promise me."

Without waiting for her to reply, Booker rushed out of the building.
After the darkness of the bar room, the light of day was almost blinding, forcing him to blink furiously. Even a few seconds could cost him everything.
The rails of the skyline ran directly overhead, sloping downward as it passed the dock, and snaking along the left-hand side of the bridge. On the rooftop above was Songbird, squatting like a monstrous gargoyle as it smashed its fists against the brickwork, trying to reach the people inside.

"Alright you son of a bitch!" Booker snarled, "Let's see how tough you really are."
He lined up the sights of the launcher and fired. A jet of flame erupted from the squat barrel and a rocket shot out, striking Songbird's leg. There was a burst of smoke and fire and the monster screamed in pain. At once it swung its long-pointed head around to face Booker, eyes glowing a menacing red.
"COME AND GET ME!" Booker roared.

He ran down the street and jumped. For a split-second he hung in the air, then there was a violent tug as the sky-hook's magnetic workings connected with the sky-line and pulled it into the mechanism. There was a heavy bang and clicking of metal on metal as the hook's teeth locked into the sky-line's track. Booker's whole body was jerked forcefully into the air and within seconds he was being pulled alongside the bridge, the wind roaring in his ears. Taking deep steady breaths, he looked back at the artillery platform. Songbird was standing on the edge of the end building, raised to his full height.

"HAVE ANOTHER!"
He fired again, but Songbird dived at the last moment, causing the rocket to sail harmlessly through the air.
"DAMN IT ALL!" Booker snarled as he struggled to reload the weapon with only one hand.
The skyline rose into the air, passing over a battle-damaged district, the taste of burning hanging in the air. Sticking the launcher between his legs, Booker was just about able to load another two rockets before Songbird came streaking out of the sun, screeching manically.
"LET'S SEE HOW TOUGH YOU ARE!"

Shouldering the launcher, Booker fired both rockets in quick succession. One sailed past, but the other struck home, blasting a hole through its body.
The mechanical bird howled and thick dark gunk gushed from the wound. Still it kept coming until it dove and crashed through the sky-line up ahead. There was an echoing boom and the rails split apart, leaving nothing but open sky ahead.

"AH HELL!" Booker yelled.
With barely seconds to spare, he lunged to one side and unlocked the sky-hook. Once again there was a sensation of weightlessness, before the hook's magnets took hold and he was pulled onto the opposite rail. Suddenly he was yanked the other way along the line, just metres from the break in the track.
"That was too damn close," he thought.

There was a rush of movement from below and Songbird burst through a patch of cloud. Booker jammed the launcher between his legs and attempted to load his last two rockets, when the mechanical bird veered sharply to the left and slammed into a building. A Building to which the sky-line was attached.

Booker's whole body shook violently. He managed to hold onto the sky-hook, but the launcher was thrown from between his knees and tumbled toward the earth, along with the last two rockets. Pulling itself free of the wrecked building, Songbird spread its wings and sped after him.
Using almost every insult and curse he could remember, Booker fumbled for the pistol in his belt. The bullets would be less than useless against the flying monstrosity, but he would not go down without a fight.

He pulled the trigger again and again. It was impossible to tell if the rounds found their mark, but if they did, the impacts did not even slow Songbird down.
"Come on!" Booker exclaimed, the words lost among the roaring wind.
He fired again and again, until the pistol ran empty. By now he was racing past the bridge, and Songbird was closing fast.

"ELIZABETH!" Booker yelled despite knowing it was useless, "ELIZABETH RUN! THE BIRD IS COMING!"
The mechanical bird raised an arm to strike the sky-line again, when there was a sound of rushing and something whipped passed Booker and detonated against the creature's chest.
Songbird stopped in midair, screaming as flames spread over its body. More rockets rushed past, spitting trails of white smoke. Many missed, but others found their mark, exploding against the bird's torso, arms and wings.

Cobblestones began passing under Booker's feet and he released the sky-hook's mechanism, landing hard on the unforgiving surface.
Groaning in pain, he pushed himself upright, trying to make sense of what was going on. Vox fighters were all around, armed with rocket launchers, firing round after round. Above there was a rumble of engines as two of the cargo barges manoeuvred across the sky, unleashing their rocket turrets on the creature. Songbird was still flying, but its whole body was a mass of smoke and flame as it was hammered from all sides. The air was filled with an endless chorus of booms and blasts, the shock waves rocking the platform.

"Booker!"
Elizabeth came running out from a building, making a bee-line for him.
"ELIZABETH! GET INSIDE!" he bellowed.
Ignoring his words, she ran to him.
"Are you okay? Are you injured?"
"No! Just get inside! Songbird's still coming!"
"I don't think so."

She turned her head. Booker looked as well. Songbird had been knocked back against the bridge, its wings tangled in the suspension cables. Its enormous hands tore at the wires, pulling them apart as it tried to get free, but the bombardment from the Vox was endless. Its wings were shredded, one arm had been blown off, and there were massive holes in its body, leaking a thick black gunk.

Screeching, it reached its remaining arm toward the platform, fingers spread, until a volley of rockets smashed into it. Slowly the creature's eyes darkened and its arm dropped. Another rocket hit its shoulder and it toppled forward, falling off the bridge and tumbling end over end until it disappeared from sight through a patch of cloud.

"WE GOT HIM!" Booker yelled.
He ran to the end of the platform, seeing nothing but the smoky trails left by the rockets. For several moments the Vox fighters were silent with disbelief, then they began cheering.
"It's dead! It's dead!"
"Did you see that Comstock? We got your pet!"
"VOX! VOX! VOX!"

Booker howled and jumped for joy. Ever since he had arrived on the city, Songbird had followed his every step and recaptured Elizabeth once. Now it was gone for good.
Jim came running over, his grinning face plastered with soot, and tightly embraced Booker.
"Three cheers for Booker DeWitt!" he declared, "The hero of the Vox!"
A chant went up from the fighters.

"DEWITT! DEWITT! DEWITT!"
"How did you do it?" Booker said, still amazed.
"It was easy," Jim explained, "When we saw you coming back, we just grabbed all the rockets we could and kept shooting."
"It was goddamn genius!"
"I can't take the credit, it was Elizabeth's idea. It was like that girl was pulling launchers outta thin air!"

Booker turned to the young woman, who was standing some distance from the Vox fighters.
"We did it Elizabeth!" he cried, "We did it! We killed Songbird!"
He ran back to her, only to find that she was not celebrating. Instead she was looking toward the ruined bridge, her eyes large and brimming with tears.
"Elizabeth?" Booker said gently.
"Three cheers for us hey," she sniffed.
"Elizabeth what's wrong?"
"Nothing, I know it had to be done, it's just…"

Her words trailed off. Booker suddenly understood. Songbird might have been her jailer, but he had also been the only thing in Columbia that ever showed her any kindness before he arrived.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I shouldn't miss him… it… I mean…"
"Sssh," Booker hushed, "It's okay. I know it's painful."
Elizabeth looked up at him and managed a smile.
"Booker!" Jim called, "Booker! I just got a message from Daisy."
"What is it?" Booker replied, reluctantly turning away from Elizabeth.

"They started sending people out by airship. She wants us to destroy the artillery guns and rejoin her to help defend the docks."
"Then get on with it. Blow these guns and get moving!"
Jim relayed the order to the other fighters and they began gathering explosives from the docking area.
Booker took a step forward to help when he stumbled and almost fell.
"Are you alright?" said Elizabeth, gently taking his arm.
"I'm fine," he answered, "Just… just a bit worn out from using the sky-line."

He lowered himself to the ground, only now realising how much his whole body ached. His left shoulder was the worst, no doubt from it having to hold his full body weight.
"You know," said Elizabeth, kneeling beside him, "That was pretty amazing."
"Good," Booker sighed, "Because I don't think I can do it again."
At that moment there was a tremendous flash of blue and bolts of lightning crackled across the sky.

"What on earth!?" exclaimed a Vox fighter.
A vast split began to form in the sky, becoming larger and wider. Booker scrambled to his feet, his tiredness suddenly forgotten.
"That looks like a tear," said Elizabeth, gazing up, "But I've never seen one that big."
As they watched, an object began to push through the rip in reality. It was long and chunky, made up of semi-circular metal plates, with large organic lumps growing over it that looked like pieces of honeycomb. Though it was far above the city, it was a massive structure, beyond even the scale of Sevastopol Station.

"What is that?" said Elizabeth, her voice trembling.
"I don't know," Booker replied, "But I'm guessing it's here for us."
He ran over to Jim, who was staring up at the strange craft, still forcing its way through the tear.
"Booker…" he said, looking terrified, "What do we do?"
"Destroy these guns and get back to Fitzroy," he answered sternly. "Whatever that thing is, we have to get the civilians to safety."
The sense of terror seemed to leave Jim and he nodded.
"You're right Booker."

He turned to the Vox fighters, all of whom were unmoving as they stared up at the craft.
"YOU AIN'T HERE TO STAND ABOUT! BLOW THESE GUNS SO WE CAN GET OUTTA HERE!"
Snapping out of their daze, the fighters set to work, piling boxes of dynamite around the heavy guns.