Chapter 165 - Breach on the Leviathan
Vincent dropped through the opening immediately behind Emma, pulling the heavy hatch shut against the crushing weight of the water that had begun cascading in. He spun the inner locking wheel until the triple titanium deadbolts thudded into place.
Outside, the silence of the deep engulfed them. Through the reinforced viewport in the hatch, nothing could be seen but pitch-black water swirling with debris from the ruined dry dock.
They were inside.
Emma hit the steel floor of the upper trunk, rolling to her feet and bringing her weapon up to sweep the corridor. The dead guard lay slumped at the bottom of the ladder, motionless.
The interior of the *Tartarus* was unlike any modern submarine. The narrow passageways were a labyrinth of polished brass valves, vacuum-tube monitoring panels, and retrofitted fiber-optic conduits that hummed with a low, menacing vibration. The air smelled of ozone, old hydraulic fluid, and crisp, filtered oxygen.
"We're sealed in," Vincent said, catching his breath as he checked his magazines. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, his jaw set in stone. "The ballast systems are engaged. She's moving."
A deep, subsonic rumble vibrated through the deck plates beneath their feet. The vessel’s twin nuclear-electric propulsion shafts were spinning up, pushing thousands of tons of steel through the submerged egress tunnel that connected Vault Zero directly into the abyssal trenches of Lake Michigan.
"She knew we would follow," Emma murmured, wiping freezing water from her eyes. "She left that emergency lever functional on purpose. She wanted us inside."
"She wanted *you* inside," Vincent corrected grimly. "To activate the command console, she needs living DNA matching the original Ward biometric matrix. If I died in the dry dock, it wouldn't have mattered to her."
Suddenly, the red emergency battle lamps flickered off. In their place, a cold, surgical white illumination hummed to life along the corridor.
Over the ship’s internal intercom, Helena Moretti’s voice crackled through the speakers, devoid of emotion.
"Navigation protocol engaged," the intercom hissed. "Heading zero-three-zero. Depth: four hundred feet. Welcome aboard the *Tartarus*, Vincent. Bring Miss Ward to the central CIC deck. If you attempt to sabotage the auxiliary systems, I will vent the compartment you are standing in to the lake."
"She’s leading us into a kill zone," Emma whispered.
May you like
"She thinks she is," Vincent replied, checking the action of his sidearm. "She forgot that my grandfather built this vessel’s propulsion schematics in the Pullman foundry. I know where the blind spots are."
***
