Chapter 4 - Into the Storm
The flight to the Vanguard was a nightmare. A heavy squall had rolled in off the Atlantic, tossing the Blackwood corporate helicopter around like a toy in a bathtub. Finn sat in the back, strapped into a crash seat, reviewing the rig's blueprints on a ruggedized tablet. Chloe sat across from him.
"You didn't have to come," Finn said, his voice raised over the roar of the rotors and the driving rain.
"He's my father, but this is my company too," Chloe replied, her eyes fierce. "Besides, you only know the hardware. You're going to need me to decrypt the Sterling malware once you get me plugged into the local server."
Finn couldn't argue with her logic. He respected her grit. She had almost drowned three hours ago, and now she was flying into the teeth of a hurricane to stop a corporate sabotage.
The pilot’s voice crackled over the headset. "Approaching Rig 42. It’s not looking good, sir. They have no beacon lights. The whole platform is running dark."
Finn looked out the window. Through the torrential rain and flashes of lightning, the silhouette of the Vanguard emerged. It was a massive, floating city of steel and iron, but it was completely dead. No floodlights, no hazard beacons. Just a dark, ominous monolith swaying violently in the rough seas.
"The helipad is clear, but I can't guarantee a smooth landing with these crosswinds!" the pilot yelled.
"Just put us down!" Chloe commanded.
The helicopter dropped out of the sky, its landing skids slamming hard against the rain-slicked steel of the helipad. Before the pilot could even power down the rotors, Finn unbuckled, grabbed his heavy tool bag, and pushed the side door open.
The wind nearly knocked him off his feet. He grabbed Chloe’s hand, pulling her out of the chopper, and they sprinted toward the main access hatch.
Finn grabbed the heavy iron wheel of the hatch and spun it. It didn't budge. He looked at the digital keypad next to it; the screen was completely blank.
"The power's cut to the outer doors," Finn shouted. He reached into his bag, pulling out a thermal cutting torch. "Stand back!"
He ignited the torch, the brilliant blue flame hissing against the steel. He cut a perfect circle around the locking mechanism, kicked the door in, and they stumbled into the dark, damp corridor of the rig.
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It was eerily quiet. The only sound was the distant, rhythmic thumping of the massive deep-core drill echoing up through the metal bones of the structure. It sounded exactly like the heartbeat that had preceded the destruction of the Abyssal Vault.
"We're too late," Chloe whispered, her eyes wide with terror. "The drill is already in the red zone."
