The downed skytrain's aura bled rainbow fumes into the noontime air. How long had it rested there, with the engines still pumping out magnetic poison into the winds surrounding the old city? Skytrains ran on an old fusion magnetar, the thing could run a hundred years.
Josephine had the wi-fi helmet which meant she was in charge. Imelda and Carlotta flanked her, making checks along the bent and blasted hull of the thing. Josephine radioed in that they found it. The Wreck of the HMS Zachary Taylor. Shot down, presumably by Creationist Scavengers, in the Texas desert twenty-one years ago. The nightmares the aura bleed must have given their children.
"Except that's wrong," Imelda noted, looking back at the blast point. "This explosion, the metal, it's bent--"
"Outward, yes," Josephine finished the thought for her. Their recon mission had just become a cold case.
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