Chapter 36 - The Mutiny on the Quarterdeck
"Hold your fire!"
A booming voice cut through the damp hold like a broadside volley.
Down the wooden ladder dropped a tall, weather-beaten figure with four gold stripes on his sleeve: Captain Thomas Vance-Reid, the actual commanding officer of the USS *Constitution*, followed by six armed shore patrolmen.
"Captain Gregory," Reid bellowed, his eyes blazing. "By whose authority are your men drawing live sidearms aboard my command?"
Gregory lowered his pistol slightly, sweat beading on his forehead. "I have direct verbal orders from Admiral Howell’s office, Sir! Commander Mercer is an escaped fugitive wanted for murder in Virginia!"
"She is in my jurisdiction now," Captain Reid replied coldly, stepping directly between Gregory’s gun and my chest. Reid looked at me, his gaze dropping to the titanium drive sticking out of my pocket, then to my uniform. "Commander Mercer, two minutes ago, an authenticated cryptographic dispatch was transmitted from the Chief of Naval Operations' personal terminal in Pearl Harbor, overriding Howell’s advisory. Chief Vance ensured that file would ping every honest flag officer in the fleet if he missed his Tuesday check-in."
My breath caught. Vance hadn't just left an audio recording for me; he had built a dead-man's switch that triggered the instant his biometric signature went offline.
"Captain Reid," I said clearly, pulling the titanium drive from my pocket and holding it up for every sailor in the hold to witness. "This drive contains the serial numbers of forty-eight illegally diverted guidance modules currently installed aboard the guided-missile destroyer USS *Vanguard*, scheduled to transit the East China Sea at midnight tonight. The order to fire upon unauthorized coordinates comes from Admiral Sterling Howell’s private relay."
Gregory lunged forward to snatch the drive, but Reid’s master-at-arms grabbed his wrist, twisting it behind his back and slamming him against the oak bulkhead. The pistol clattered onto the deck planks.
"Gregory Vance, you are relieved of duty and placed under arrest for conduct unbecoming and suspected high treason," Reid snarled into his ear.
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"You're too late!" Gregory spat blood onto the deck, laughing hysterically. "Howell isn't at the Pentagon! He flew into the naval shipyard at Portsmouth this morning! The *Vanguard* is already on sea trials—the automated launch sequence is hard-coded! You can't stop the countdown from Boston!"
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