Three hundred wealthy guests watched a maid stop Vanessa’s attack with one hand, never realizing the woman in the gray uniform had once been trained to dismantle dangerous threats. / Chapter 128 / 130

Chapter 128 - Ascending the Spine

"He never intended to hide in London," Naomi said, her breath catching as she scanned the decrypted operational logs on the screen.

Julian leaned over the console, his hands shaking slightly. "Then what is Car 01’s destination?"

"Car 01 was a decoy run to clear the mid-Atlantic sensors," Naomi traced the digital telemetry lines. "Vance bypassed the central London station. Car 01 was routed directly into a private branch line beneath the English Channel, terminating under an abandoned Cold War naval fortress off the coast of Cornwall—Fortress Dreadnought."

"Why Cornwall?"

"Because that’s where the Apex Council keeps the primary terrestrial uplink," Naomi said, her eyes flashing with cold realization. "Vance didn't just escape. He’s executing the final phase of Protocol Zero. The moment he connects Subject Alpha to the Dreadnought relay, he will gain root-level control over every autonomous military drone, every tactical communication grid, and every automated defense perimeter across the entire Western Hemisphere."

She slammed her fist onto the console. "Arthur Sterling thought he was a mastermind playing with shadows. But Arthur was just an errand boy. Vance is purging the entire old guard—the Whitmores, the Sterlings, the Apex Council itself. He’s wiping the slate clean and installing a synthetic oligarchy."

A shudder ran through the deck plates beneath their feet. The sound of buckling bulkheads echoed from the lower levels.

*“WARNING: PRIMARY GEOTHERMAL CONDUIT BREACHED,”* the station’s automated voice droned calmly. *“SECTOR INTEGRITY AT TWELVE PERCENT. CATACLYSMIC COMPACTION IN TWO MINUTES.”*

"We have to move," Julian urged, pointing to the glowing green status light of the emergency benthic escape pod resting in the umbilical dock on the other side of the bridge.

"The escape pod has solid-fuel ascent rockets," Naomi said, dragging Julian toward the airlock. "It's designed to punch through benthic currents and reach the surface in under three minutes. But the acceleration will make the transit pod look like a carousel ride."

"At this point, I don't care," Julian muttered, scrambling into the small, spherical capsule.

Naomi sealed the heavy hatch behind them, dogging down the pressure wheels until the titanium seals locked with a definitive click. She strapped Julian into the passenger seat and took the helm, her hands moving over the mechanical levers.

Beneath them, the maintenance station began to crumple. The deafening groan of thousands of tons of steel collapsing under the weight of the Atlantic filled the capsule.

"Hold on to your teeth," Naomi said.