The office itself was very much as drab as the rest of the silo, a boxy room with the same tile floor and low ceiling as the rest of the building. Dusty documents fluttered about, disturbed for the first time in years, and an empty beer bottle rolled across the damaged floor, tapping against my right foot as if to greet me. There was a large shard of metal embedded into the far wall of the room, piercing a tactical map of some kind. Placing a hand on the wall, I hobbled over, trying to get a good look at the shard. Well, that explained how the door had been destroyed. The metal piece, easily the size and length of my upper body, was part of the barrel from a railgun. It was broken at one end, a twisted spire of black steel, and still hot to the touch. Now I understood what had hit me. The unlucky mech who had owned this gun had caused so much damage that it was likely no longer fit for battle. It had nearly taken me with it, knocking me down and sending the very tip of the gun's r
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