Chapter 10 - No One Left Aboard
The missiles were scheduled to strike in eleven minutes.
Rourke had reported the Resolute hijacked by Brennan and loaded with stolen weapons. He ordered its destruction under an emergency protocol, creating a perfect ending: the traitor, the evidence, and the compromised accomplices erased together.
Brennan forced the shipwide intercom online.
"This is Commander Brennan. The vessel is sinking and has been targeted. All hands abandon ship. This is not a drill."
Garrett cut her off, but sailors had heard enough. Lifeboat stations filled. Officers argued with armed security. The orderly conspiracy began collapsing under ordinary human terror.
Price worked from shore to revoke the strike authorization. Rourke overruled her. Voss, bleeding in an ambulance, recorded a public confession and sent it to every news outlet Daniel could reach.
Nine minutes.
Cole stayed to restore manual engine control. Brennan climbed toward the bridge, fighting the ship's increasing tilt. Travis met her in the communications room with a detonator.
"One button sinks the ship," he said.
"It is already sinking."
"Then this button makes sure."
Travis had always needed money because his wife required experimental cancer treatment. Rourke paid the bills and owned him by the debt. Brennan understood desperation, but understanding was not absolution.
"Your wife will learn what paid for her life," Brennan said. "Do you want her to learn you murdered three hundred people too?"
His thumb trembled.
Garrett shot Travis through the chest from the doorway and took the detonator.
"He was always weak," Garrett said.
Brennan dragged Travis behind a console and returned fire with his fallen weapon. Garrett retreated toward the bridge.
Seven minutes.
Travis pressed a bloody key card into Brennan's hand. "Server room," he whispered. "Rourke's direct channel."
He died before she could answer.
The server room held encrypted recordings of every order sent to Garrett's team. Brennan began transmitting them through an emergency satellite channel. The progress bar moved painfully slowly.
Five minutes.
Rourke appeared on the screen. "Stop the upload and I will cancel the strike."
"Cancel it first."
"You are in no position to negotiate."
Brennan looked at the evacuation cameras. Sailors were still trapped at two lifeboat stations.
"Neither are you," she said. "Your voice is being transmitted with the files."
For the first time, Rourke looked afraid.
May you like
The upload reached sixty percent.
Three minutes remained.
