Chapter 6 - The Override Code
The chief of security paused, his finger freezing just millimeters from his weapon’s safety switch. The red emergency lights pulsed overhead, casting rhythmic shadows across the tense standoff in the dining hall. The low-frequency vibration hummed louder now, causing the coffee in the abandoned ceramic mugs to ripple with concentric circles.
“Don’t listen to them, Chief,” a panicked voice crackled over the tactical radio strapped to the security officer’s shoulder. “Base communications are being overridden from an unauthorized terminal in the sub-basement. Mainframe access is completely compromised!”
Marcus pulled his hand out of his pocket, holding up a small, heavily encrypted military tablet. The screen glowed with a blinding crimson light, displaying a blinking clearance seal that made the chief’s eyes widen in sudden terror.
“That’s my biometric signature authorizing this detachment,” Marcus said, his voice dropping into a lethal register. “Which means Lieutenant Commander Phibbs and Major Miller are operating under direct executive orders from the Joint Chiefs. Lower your weapons, Chief, or you’ll spend the rest of your court-martial locked in a federal penitentiary.”
The chief swallowed hard, his gaze shifting from the glowing crimson screen on the tablet back to Captain Vance’s unyielding stare. Slowly, painfully, the chief raised a gloved hand and signaled his squad.
“Lower weapons,” the chief ordered, his voice tight. The security officers hesitated for a split second before dropping the barrels of their rifles toward the floor. “Secure the perimeter doors, but let them pass.”
Sarah didn’t waste a single heartbeat. She swept past the security squad without a backward glance, her dark boots striking the floor with rhythmic precision. Lucas lingered for a second, glaring at the chief before jogging quickly to catch up with Sarah’s rapid pace.
“Where are we actually going, Sarah?” Lucas asked, falling into step beside her as they crossed the threshold into the sterile, white-tiled corridors of the command wing. “The sub-basement bunker was decommissioned after the Cold War. There’s no power down there.”
“There’s power,” Sarah replied without slowing her pace. “Emergency geothermal generators that Vance had wired into the grid three weeks before the North Atlantic incident. Someone has been using that terminal to keep the beacon alive.”
Marcus jogged slightly to catch up, his breath coming in measured, controlled gasps despite his age.
“And if we reach the terminal,” Marcus added grimly, “we might finally find out who—or what—pulled my ship under the ice twenty-six years ago.”
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They rounded a sharp corner, coming face to face with the heavy steel blast doors of Sub-Level Four, where a glowing blue digital keypad flickered erratically in the dark corridor.
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