Chapter 17 - Into the Belly of the Beast
The rush of water equalizing into the depressurized airlock violently pulled us inside the facility. We tumbled onto the grated metal floor, the heavy exterior doors automatically slamming shut and locking behind us. Red emergency lights bathed the cramped room in a harsh, bloody glow as the loud hiss of oxygen flooded the chamber, purging the water. I ripped off my diving helmet, taking a deep breath of the stale, metallic-tasting air. “Weapons up,” I ordered, raising my rifle and stacking up against the inner blast door. “Expect heavy resistance the second this door opens.” Nathan took the point position, his finger resting lightly on the trigger. The heavy blast door slid open with a loud, grinding metallic screech. A barrage of suppressed gunfire instantly tore through the opening, sparking violently against the steel bulkheads around us. Thorne’s private security detail was waiting. “Contact front!” Nathan shouted, leaning around the corner and firing a short, controlled burst. Two mercenaries stationed at the end of the narrow corridor dropped instantly. We pushed into the facility, moving with ruthless, synchronized precision. This wasn't a standard firefight; it was a brutal, close-quarters slugfest in a metal tube four thousand feet underwater. The air filled with the sharp smell of cordite and the deafening roar of automatic weapons. I moved alongside Nathan, dropping a mercenary who tried to flank us from a side maintenance hatch. We fought our way through the crew quarters, the mess hall, and the engineering bay, leaving a trail of shattered glass and unconscious bodies in our wake. Despite his age, Thorne had trained his men well, but they were mercenaries fighting for a paycheck. We were fighting for the survival of the eastern seaboard. “The seismic core should be at the absolute lowest level of the facility,” I said, checking the digital schematic on my wrist computer. “We need to breach the primary control room.” We stacked up outside a massive set of double doors reinforced with heavy locking bars. Nathan set another breaching charge, blowing the locking mechanism to absolute pieces. We stormed into the control room, weapons raised and sweeping the massive, circular chamber. The room was dominated by a colossal glass observation window looking out into the pitch-black ocean. In the center of the room stood a glowing, pulsating cylinder of pure energy—the seismic core. And standing calmly in front of it, wearing a crisp, perfectly tailored naval uniform stripped of all insignias, was Captain Elias Thorne. He didn't have a weapon drawn. He was just holding a small, black tablet. “You always were remarkably efficient at clearing a room, Evelyn,” Thorne smiled, looking completely unbothered by the assault rifles pointed at his chest.
