Chapter 7 - The Burn
The white-hot agony tore up my arm and locked every muscle in my torso the moment the metal prong bridged the red and blue leads.
A shower of blinding electric sparks erupted from the maintenance panel, illuminating the vaulted concrete chamber in a strobe-like flash of blue light. My scream was trapped in my throat, swallowed by the violent concussive snap of the circuit board overloading. The smell of burning flesh and melted plastic filled the air.
00:03... 00:02... 00:01... 00:00.
The flashing red digits vanished. The room went pitch black.
The low hum of the servers died instantly, replaced by an eerie, heavy silence. I slumped forward against the cold metal cabinet, my right hand hanging limp and useless, radiating a blinding, nauseating wave of pain that traveled straight to my chest.
"Brooks!" Lawson's voice shrieked through the dead intercom, frantic and raw. "Brooks, report! Did the relay drop?"
I couldn't speak. I pushed myself up with my left hand, my boots sliding in the oily water, and spat a mouthful of metallic-tasting blood onto the floor.
"Relay... down," I managed to wheeze out, my voice barely a cracked whisper. "The... the synchronization aborted."
Above me, a massive, explosive BOOM shook the subbasement ceiling. Dust and concrete chips rained down on my shoulders as Lawson’s tactical team blew the heavy security hinges with a breaching charge. The top of the steel bulkhead door buckled outward, letting in a blinding beam of hallway light and fresh, cool air.
"Clear the threshold!" Lawson roared.
Strong hands grabbed my tactical vest, hoisting me up and dragging me bodily through the smoking gap in the doorway. Bright fluorescent light stabbed at my eyes, making me groan and throw my left arm over my face as medics swarmed around me, cutting away my tactical jacket and grabbing my blistered, charred right hand.
"Get her to the trauma unit now," Lawson ordered, her face pale, her clothes covered in soot and drywall dust. She knelt beside me as I was strapped onto a gurney. "Maya, you saved the fleet. The regional command center just confirmed the upload was terminated one second before completion."
"No," I gasped, my vision swimming as the pain meds kicked in. I gripped Lawson’s sleeve with my uninjured left hand, my fingers digging into her fabric with desperate strength. "Vance... Vance expected us to block the primary relay."
Lawson frowned, her eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about? We stopped the sync."
"It wasn't a sync," I whispered, blood bubbling at the corner of my lips. "It was a diversion. Look at the... the secure terminal screen on your tablet."
Lawson pulled her encrypted tactical tablet from her belt, tapping the screen with a trembling thumb. As the local status report loaded, the color drained entirely from her face, leaving her looking like a corpse.
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"Oh, sweet mother of God," Lawson breathed, staring at the screen in pure horror. "The precinct relay wasn't bouncing to the Pacific Fleet... it was bouncing to Fort Meade."
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