Chapter 11 - The Naval Dry Docks
The rain fell in relentless sheets over the abandoned naval dry docks, transforming the rusted concrete aprons into slick, treacherous mirrors reflecting the dull orange glow of distant industrial yard lamps. The hulking silhouette of a decommissioned aircraft carrier loomed in the background like a skeletal monument to forgotten wars.
Marcus killed the engine of their unmarked sedan a hundred yards away from Pier 4, cutting the headlights to blend into the deep shadows of a rusted shipping container stack.
Vivienne sat in the passenger seat, her eyes fixed on a sleek, black communications van parked directly beside the gangway of the pier. Two armed guards patrolled the perimeter, holding assault rifles under heavy waterproof ponchos.
"There's the extraction point," Vivienne whispered, checking the magazine of her sidearm in the dim cabin light. "The comms van is running a satellite uplink directly into the Pentagon’s secondary servers."
Marcus unclipped his weapon, cycling a round into the chamber with a quiet, metallic click.
"They're scrubbing the database from the inside out," Marcus analyzed, his eyes scanning the perimeter for additional snipers or hidden positions. "If we rush them frontally, we’ll trigger a dead-man's switch that locks out the financial audit trails permanently."
Vivienne opened her door slowly, the sound of the rain drowning out the metal hinge.
"We don't rush them," Vivienne replied, stepping out into the freezing downpour, the water instantly soaking through her uniform jacket. "We cut the power first."
They moved with silent, synchronized precision, utilizing the heavy steel shipping containers as cover as they closed the distance toward the main transformer box servicing Pier 4. The guards were focused outward toward the main access road, completely unaware of the threat approaching from the blind spot behind the stacked cargo crates.
Marcus reached the heavy metal housing of the transformer box first, inspecting the manual override switch with a practiced eye.
"Main grid bypass," Marcus muttered, pulling a heavy wire cutter from his tactical belt. "One cut, and the entire pier goes dark for forty seconds before the diesel backups kick in."
Vivienne nodded, her eyes locked on the communications van fifty yards away.
"Do it on my mark," she whispered, raising her weapon toward the perimeter guards. "Three, two, one... cut."
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Marcus snapped the heavy copper cable with a single, brutal exertion of force. A shower of blue sparks erupted from the transformer box, and instantly, every light along Pier 4 flickered and died, plunging the entire dry dock into pitch-black darkness.
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