Novels by Luna Quin

The Eradicator sat in the snow like the carcass of a dead god. I had spent the last six hours stripping its primary drive and internal circuitry, leaving nothing but a hollow iron shell. It was a message. Anyone coming from the bunker would have to walk past the skeleton of their greatest weapon to reach my front door.I stood on the primary observation deck of my Level 5 fortress. The cabin was a memory. In its place stood a jagged spire of matte-black alloy that looked like it had grown out of the earth itself. It was six stories tall, wrapped in thermal coils that pulsed with a steady, violet light. Inside, the air was a still, humid 22°C. Outside, the world was screaming at -70°C."Sky," Vera said, stepping onto the deck. She wasn't wearing a thermal suit anymore. She was in a simple flight suit, her sleeves rolled up. "They’re here. They’ve been at the perimeter for twenty minutes. They aren't moving.""They're waiting for an invitation," I said. "They still think they have a cho

The interior of the Eradicator was a tomb of high-grade steel and failing technology. As I stepped out of the Frost-Wasp, the transition from my 22°C cockpit to the machine’s 5°C interior was like hitting a wall of wet iron. The emergency lights were flickering a dim, rhythmic red, casting long shadows across the hallway.[CORE FRAGMENT DETECTED: ERADICATOR DRIVE-CORE.] [ANALYSIS: COMPRESSED THERMAL ENERGY DETECTED.] [ACTION: ABSORB OR CONVERT?]"Neither yet," I whispered. "I want the bridge."I moved through the corridors with the silence of a man who knew the blueprints of this machine better than the people who operated it. I wasn't just an architect of buildings; I was an architect of systems. I knew exactly where the primary conduits met the secondary life support.I reached the heavy blast doors of the command bridge. They were sealed tight, pressurized against the cold. I didn't reach for a tool. I just placed my palm against the center of the door."System," I commanded. "Cons

The Frost-Wasp cut as it drove. The tracks, heated to a dull cherry-red by the Hearth’s overflow, hissed as they bit into the blue ice of the Oakhaven ridge. Inside the cockpit, the silence was absolute. Vera sat in the co-pilot’s seat, her eyes fixed on the sensor array."We’re three miles out from the Exhaust Flume," she said, her voice tight. "The blizzard is masking our thermal signature, but once we hit the perimeter, Vance’s seismic sensors will pick up the vibration of the tracks.""Let them pick it up," I said, my hands steady on the hilt-shaped controls. "By the time they calculate the trajectory, we’ll be inside the vents."I glanced at the HUD.[FUEL RESERVES: 82%][INTERNAL TEMP: 22°C][CARGO: EMPTY]I knew what I was looking for. The journals weren't just paper; my grandfather had encoded the data into high-density glass slides hidden within the bindings. If Vance burned the archives to save on his heating bill, the history of the world’s thermal veins would be lost forev

The blizzard screamed as it clawed at the black alloy of my walls. But inside, the silence was heavy. I stood by the primary terminal—a slab of matte glass that had grown out of the floor—watching the blueprints for the Snow-Trekker stitch themselves together in glowing violet lines."You’re insane," Gort muttered from the decontamination zone. He was wrapped in a thermal blanket, his face pale as he watched me work. "You’re going to drive back to Aegis-1? In a storm that’s currently stripping the paint off the mountains? You won't make it a mile before the wind flips you."I didn't look at him. "The wind only flips things that have a center of gravity. I’m building something that has a center of heat."I tapped the terminal.[RESOURCES REQUIRED: 800 UNITS REFINED STEEL, 2 LITHIUM CORES.][CURRENT STOCK: 450 UNITS STEEL, 0 CORES.]I looked at the scouts. They were useless to me as fighters, but they were walking piles of high-grade material."The suits," I said.Gort blinked. "What?"

The three scouts huddled in the corner of my entryway, their teeth chattering with a sound like dry bones rattling in a box. I had let them in, but only just. They were confined to a small, five-square-meter "decontamination" zone I’d partitioned off with a flick of my mind. To them, the 22°C air was a miracle; to me, they were just biological heat signatures taking up space."Ammunitions," I said, holding out my hand.Gort fumbled with his holster, his fingers purple and stiff. He dropped his pulse-pistol onto the black-alloy floor. The other two followed suit, their weapons clattering as they surrendered the only leverage they had.[OBJECTS DETECTED: AEGIS-1 PULSE RIFLES (3), SIDEARM (1)][ANALYSIS: HIGH-GRADE POLYMER, CAPACITOR CORES][ACTION: CONSUME OR ARCHIVE?]"Archive," I muttered. I needed weapons for later. The system obeyed, the floor beneath the guns liquefying and swallowing them into a hidden sub-floor compartment.I turned away from them, walking toward the center of th

The rumble of the scout-crawler’s engine vibrated through the permafrost, a low, mechanical growl that signaled the arrival of the Collective. I stood by the reinforced window of the cabin, watching the twin beams of their floodlights cut through the swirling white chaos.They were arrogant. They didn't approach with caution, instead they drove straight toward the thermal bloom like moths to a flame.[FUEL RESERVES: 94%][DETECTION: 4 HOSTILES APPROACHING PERIMETER.]I didn't reach for a weapon. I didn't have one, and I didn't need one. In this three-meter radius, I was the atmosphere.The crawler hissed to a halt twenty yards away. The hatch cranked open, releasing a cloud of pressurized steam. Four figures in heavy, white-armored thermal suits stepped out. They moved with the heavy, robotic gait of men who relied entirely on their gear to stay alive. Gort was in the lead, his pulse-rifle held loosely. He expected a dying man huddled over a campfire.He didn't expect a black-alloy fo