Chapter 13 - The Halon Cloud
The heavy, odorless Halon gas rushed down from the ceiling vents with a thunderous hiss, instantly displacing the oxygen in the server vault and reducing visibility to zero within a fraction of a second. The tactical operatives cursed loudly, their masked voices muffled as they stumbled backward, swinging their weapons blindly through the dense white fog.
“Drop! Get down!” Loa yelled through the haze, grabbing Evelyn Cross by the collar and pulling her beneath the heavy steel frame of the master console.
Major Hayes hauled Sarah Chen down beside them as the sound of wildly discharged carbines echoed off the concrete walls. Bullets ricocheted off the server racks, sending a shower of dangerous blue sparks into the air and shattering the plastic casings of several auxiliary hard drives.
“The oxygen is dropping fast!” Evelyn gasped, coughing violently as the heavy gas filled her lungs. “We need to get to the emergency vent shaft behind the rack!”
“Move, move, move!” Loa commanded, her tactical training overriding the physical shock of the chemical discharge.
Crawling on their hands and knees through the freezing slush of water and debris, Loa led the small group around the back of the primary server array. Hidden behind a massive cooling unit was a low, square maintenance hatch bearing a yellow radiation and pressure warning label.
Sarah raised the heavy metal wrench she was still carrying and slammed it against the rusted locking bolts of the hatch with a series of dull, echoing crashes. The bolts sheared off under the desperate force, and the metal panel popped inward with a rush of stale, open-air desert wind.
“Go! Go!” Loa pushed Evelyn through the narrow opening first, followed closely by Major Hayes and Sarah, who kept her grip on the brushed-aluminum hard drive like a lifeline.
As Loa prepared to slide through the hatch herself, a heavy, gloved hand suddenly clamped around her ankle, dragging her backward across the concrete floor. She spun around in the dense white fog, throwing a sharp, targeted elbow strike that connected squarely with a tactical helmet with a hollow thunk.
The grip loosened instantly, and Loa scrambled backward through the maintenance hatch, kicking the heavy steel panel shut behind her and sliding the emergency deadbolt into place just as a burst of suppressed gunfire chewed through the thin metal from the inside.
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They tumbled out into the freezing, rain-swept desert night, landing hard in a deep drainage ditch fifty yards behind the hangar. Above them, the red emergency sirens of the base wailed into the stormy darkness, signaling a total security lockdown across the entire sector.
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