Chapter 83 - Flight Over the North Atlantic
The cargo hold hissed as it pressurized, the deafening scream of the Arctic tempest suddenly reduced to a dull, low-frequency thrumming. Vanessa collapsed onto the deck, hyperventilating, hugging her knees as she stared in absolute horror at the two unconscious—or dead—guards lying around her.
"You're a monster," Vanessa whispered, her teeth chattering so violently the words were barely intelligible. "You... you aren't human."
"She saved your miserable life, Vanessa," Ethan snapped, leaning against an equipment rack to catch his breath. He checked the pulse of the guard closest to him, confirming the man was merely unconscious, then stripped him of his sidearm and extra magazines. "Which is considerably more than your family ever did for anyone."
Naomi was already moving toward the cockpit door, her pistol drawn. She placed her palm against the reinforced sliding panel. It was locked from the inside, but the cockpit’s master communications override console sat directly outside the bulkhead.
She patched into the pilot's intercom. "Pilot. You have three seconds to disengage the autopilot and set a heading for the east coast of the United States, or I vent your cabin pressure from the secondary bleed valve."
A tense silence hung over the intercom for two agonizing beats. Then, an exhausted, raspy voice responded: "Save your threats, Nine. The cockpit is locked from the ground. I’m not the one flying this bird."
Naomi’s brow furrowed. "Explain."
"The Apex Council initiated a remote flight path the moment the facility detonated," the pilot said, coughing weakly. "We’re slaved to a satellite uplink routed through Zurich. I’m just cargo in here, same as you. The flight plan is locked to an ocean drop coordinates five hundred miles south of Greenland. They’re ditching this entire airframe to erase the Svalbard footprint."
Naomi walked over to the communications hub on the bulkhead wall. She pulled the plastic casing off the primary junction box, exposing the bundle of fiber-optic wires and military encryption chips.
"They’re using the Generation Nine protocol relay," Naomi observed, tracing the pulsing blue light on the central processor. "The same encrypted backbone they used to program the assets in Philadelphia."
Ethan stepped up behind her, watching her fingers work with terrifying speed. "Can you override the remote link?"
"Not from here without triggering the onboard scuttle charge," Naomi said, her voice steady despite the clock ticking down on their lives. "Julian Sterling knew the Council would try to sanitize the site. That’s why he left Vanessa behind—she was supposed to die with me, closing the loop on the Sterling name while he took Whitmore House uncontested."
Vanessa looked up from the floor, her eyes wide, tears streaking the grease and grime on her cheeks. "Julian wouldn't do that to me! I'm his sister! He promised we would rebuild the family empire together!"
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"Your brother doesn't want an empire with partners, Vanessa," Naomi said without turning around. "He wants an empire with subjects. And beneath Whitmore House lies the only thing capable of securing his absolute rule."
Naomi pulled a customized data bypass tool—a small steel cylinder disguised as an antique hair clasp she had kept hidden in the lining of her boots—and jammed it straight into the central logic bus of the flight control unit.
