Chapter 17 - The Severed Thread
The words hung in the air like poison.
"What did you say?" I stepped forward, driving my boot onto Eleanor’s right wrist, kicking the dead-man switch clear across the metal grated floor. It clattered and bounced before falling through a drainage vent into the dark water below.
Arthur lay on his side, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps. He clutched his shoulder, scarlet fluid pulsing between his fingers, his face ashen gray. "Maya... check the... central buffer..." he wheezed.
"Don't move, Arthur," I ordered, dropping down on one knee, pressing my field dressing tightly against his entry wound. "Evelyn, status! The fleet relay is down, right?"
"Fleet relay is completely isolated, Maya!" Evelyn’s voice shouted through my earpiece, but the relief in her tone vanished in an instant, replaced by rising dread. "Wait... wait, oh God. The beacon explosion didn't just kill the uplink. It triggered an internal reroute. There's a phantom data stream downloading into the silo's subterranean generators!"
I snapped my head toward Eleanor. She didn't flinch beneath my boot. Instead, she laughed, a low, guttural chuckle that turned into a coughing fit.
"You always looked at the sky, Maya," Eleanor whispered, her eyes burning with fanatic zeal. "Just like your father. You thought power meant missiles, satellites, aircraft carriers. Antiquated toys. The real power in this country isn't in the Pacific. It's beneath your feet."
"Explain. Now," I said, pressing the barrel of my gun harder against her temple.
"The Morningstar protocol wasn't designed to destroy the fleet. It was designed to pull every defensive satellite in the North American hemisphere into a localized diagnostic blackout for twelve minutes," Eleanor sneered, spitting blood onto the steel deck. "Twelve minutes where the civilian grid, the air-traffic network, and the nuclear early-warning arrays in Colorado are entirely blind. And while you two were playing heroes down here in the dark, my associates at the Pentagon have already executed the transfer."
Arthur’s eyes went wide. "Douglas... Chairman Douglas wasn't covering for you... he was working for you."
"Working for me?" Eleanor smiled pityingly at him. "Douglas answers to the Syndicate, Arthur. The same council that funded your promotions. The same council that ordered you to humiliate Maya in front of the entire division to ensure she would never be given command of the Homeland Defense Initiative. You thought you were protecting your honor. You were just clearing the board for our strike."
A heavy thud shook the bunker. Dust rained down from the concrete vaulted ceiling as deep, low sirens began to hum from deep beneath the silo floor.
"Maya!" Evelyn yelled. "The primary geothermal cooling valves for the base's reactor have just been purged! The failsafes are burning out! This whole mountain is rigged for a clean-sweep demolition! You have five minutes to evacuate!"
"Get up," I grabbed Eleanor by her collar, hauling her violently to her feet, wrenching her hands behind her back and snapping flex-cuffs around her wrists. "You’re coming with us. You're going to stand in front of the Senate and tell the world what you did."
"I won't survive the afternoon, little girl," Eleanor purred, leaning close to my ear, her voice chillingly calm. "And neither will your father. Look at him."
I turned. Arthur was trying to push himself up against the railing, his legs shaking violently, blood pooling beneath his combat trousers. The bullet had torn through his subclavian artery; his lips were turning blue from hemorrhagic shock.
"Leave me, Maya," Arthur gasped, his vision swimming. "Take her... get the drive from the terminal. Take the evidence to Fort Meade... General Vance's loyalists are still at Fort Meade..."
"I am not leaving you," I snapped, slinging his uninjured arm over my shoulder, hauling his massive frame up. "You stripped my rank, you called me a traitor, and you ruined my life. You don't get to die a martyr, Dad. You're going to live to watch me fix your mess."
Arthur gave a hollow, broken laugh through the pain. "You always were... stubborn as hell."
"Move!" I barked at Eleanor, shoving her ahead of us down the narrow catwalk toward the emergency freight elevator.
Behind us, the main terminal sparked violently, smoke billowing from the ventilation shafts. The countdown on the mountain's self-destruct mechanism echoed through automated loudspeakers: *CONTAINMENT FAILURE IN FOUR MINUTES. EVACUATE FACILITY IMMEDIATELY.*
We had eighty yards of steel platform between us and the elevator cage. Eleanor walked with calculated slowness, her head held high, as if she were inspecting troops rather than marching toward a military tribunal.
Suddenly, the steel blast doors at the far end of the gantry blew inward with a deafening concussive blast.
Shrapnel whistled through the corridor. Two black-clad operatives carrying suppressed carbines stepped through the smoke, their laser sights cutting through the haze.
"Drop your weapons!" the point man shouted, the crimson beam centering directly on Arthur’s chest.
"Friendly!" Eleanor called out smoothly. "Neutralize the targets, leave the girl alive for extraction."
The operative raised his weapon to fire. Arthur tried to throw his body in front of me once again, but his knees buckled.
May you like
I didn't hesitate. With Arthur leaning against my left hip, I fired four rounds through the smoke with my right hand, catching the point man in the throat and chest. The second operative lunged for cover behind a structural pillar, returning fire.
The bullets sparked off the metal grating beneath our boots. We were pinned down, the clock at three minutes, bleeding out in the belly of a dying fortress.