"What's the situation inside the tower?"
The Chief Detective didn't wait for the airship to land before he yelled at the police officers surrounding the entrance.
The officer in charge of coordination shook his head.
Under the murky halos of the moon, steam airships descended like snowflakes, filling the night sky. The officers, wearing bulky heavy-duty exosuits, leapt to the ground, landing with a succession of booming impacts.
Atop Cupid Tower, the golden lookout lanterns circled clockwise, illuminating a patchwork of cannon muzzles and throbbing chimneys, lighting up one officer's face after another, as an atmosphere of tense, searing urgency undulated ceaselessly.
Even if sabotaging the railways could significantly delay things, the steam guards of San Francisco, the crowning glory of the era, would not be rendered helpless by such trifling tricks.
