Overload Plan

"If you close those valves while the automated sequence is trying to open them, the pressure will build up inside the lines."

"It will blow the entire geothermal core," Garrison said, looking down at me. "The explosion will collapse the volcanic vents inward, sealing the automated tanks under a million tons of mountain granite. The fog won’t be able to reach the atmosphere."

"Garrison, that will kill anyone inside the core," I whispered, my voice cracking as I stepped closer to him on the small metal platform. I grabbed the front of his torn uniform. "You are talking about a suicide mission."

"It’s the only mission left, Valerie," he murmured, his hand moving to the back of my neck, his thumb brushing against my jawline with a fierce, protective warmth. "If those valves open, everyone on the surface dies anyway. I am a soldier. My job is to ensure the survival of the sector. Even if I am not in it."

"No," I said, tears burning my eyes for the first time since the penthouse sirens went off. "I didn’t crawl through three miles of mud and monsters just to watch you blow yourself up in a concrete room. There has to be another way. A manual bypass, a chemical counter-agent—"

"There isn’t," he said, pulling me flush against his chest armor. His arms wrapped around me tightly, his chin resting on top of my head as the skiff rattled along the iron rails. "But you aren’t going to be in that room, Valerie. The skiff has a secondary automated return sequence. Once we reach the perimeter gate of Depot One, I am locking you inside the observation cabin and sending this platform back to the surface garage."

"I am not leaving you!" I shouted against his chest.

"You are going to live," he whispered, his lips pressing firmly against my forehead. "That is the only order I need you to follow."

The tunnel opened up suddenly into a massive, brilliantly lit subterranean cavern. The walls were lined with steel scaffolding, and in the center of the room sat the towering titanium structure of Depot One.

But as the skiff rolled onto the main arrival platform, the electric motor suddenly whined and died.

A dozen high-intensity spotlights snapped on from the surrounding catwalks, blinding us instantly. Through the glare, I heard the distinctive clack of multiple automatic rifles being chambered at the same time.

"Step off the platform with your hands behind your head, Commander," a voice boomed from the overhead platform.

It wasn’t Miller’s squad. Standing on the catwalk, surrounded by an entire armored company of regular district soldiers, was General Vance’s personal adjutant, Captain Ryker. He held a detonator in his hand, his eyes cold as he looked down at us.

"The General didn’t make it out of the lab, Ryker," Garrison called out, his body shifting to shield me from the spotlights. "The facility is gone. The countdown is live."

"We know, Commander," Ryker replied, his men tightening the circle around the skiff. "And we are here to ensure that countdown finishes exactly on schedule."

The spotlights burned against my retinas, turning the world into a blinding white wall.

"Hands behind your head, Vance!" Captain Ryker shouted again from the high steel catwalk. "I will not repeat the order. If your fingers move more than an inch from your sides, my men will shred that platform."

Garrison didn’t lift his hands. He stood like an iron pillar right in front of me, completely cutting off Ryker’s line of sight to my chest. "You are working for a ghost, Ryker. My father is dead. Thorne is dead. There is no political regime waiting for you at the capital. If you let those valves open, your family in the outer sectors will choke on the first wave."

Ryker let out a short, hollow laugh that bounced off the massive bulkheads of Depot One. "My family is already inside the capital sanctuary, Commander. General Vance secured their passes three days ago. The only thing keeping them safe now is the complete neutralization of the outer zone populations. The resources are dry. The air scrubbers can only support the elite tier. This dispersal isn’t a mistake. It’s the final solution."

"You are an idiot," I called out from behind Garrison’s shoulder. "Thorne’s pathogen didn’t stay in the outer zone. It adapted. My sister Cynthia survived a direct gunshot to the lungs because the red fog rewrote her entire biological structure. She turned into an apex beast. She killed Thorne, Ryker. If that fog hits the jet stream, your capital sanctuary will turn into a slaughterhouse within twelve hours."

The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated only by the deep, rhythmic hum of the geothermal core below the floorboards. On the catwalks, I saw two of the armored soldiers look at each other, their rifles lowering a fraction of an inch.

"Shut your mouth!" Ryker roared, pointing his detonator directly at the utility skiff’s battery housing. "She’s lying, men! She’s a low-tier medic trying to save her own skin! Captain, disarm the Commander."