Chapter 37 - The Infiltration of Fort Vance
The hydraulic ascender hauled us upward through the blinding ocean spray, eighty feet into the howling wind, depositing us on a grated maintenance catwalk beneath the platform's primary sub-deck.
The roar of the ocean below was muffled the moment Daniel used a silenced breaching tool to crack the electronic lock on an emergency pressure hatch. We slipped inside, the heavy steel door sealing behind us with a pneumatic hiss.
The interior of Fort Vance was not an industrial ruin; it was a state-of-the-art medical and command facility. The walls were clad in sterile white composite panels, lined with fiber-optic conduits and climate-controlled filtration ducts. The hum of a heavy industrial generator vibrated through the metal deck beneath our boots.
"Thermal cameras at the junction ahead," Daniel whispered, holding up a hand. He pulled a compact smoke cannister from his tactical vest, priming the pin. "Two guards at the bulkhead door. Body armor, suppressed automatic subguns."
"No alarms," I whispered back. "If they lock down the medical wing, we won't get through the blast doors."
"Watch my back," Daniel said.
He rounded the corner with breathtaking speed. Two muffled *cracks* split the corridor air. Before the first guard’s body hit the linoleum floor, Daniel had already caught the second man by the tactical vest, driving him into the wall with a brutal shoulder strike, his suppressed pistol pressed beneath the guard's chin.
The guard choked, his eyes wide with shock.
"The nursery," Daniel hissed, his voice lethal. "Where is the old man keeping the infant?"
"Level... Level Three," the guard gasped, blood bubbling from a shattered tooth. "The clean room... Mr. Vance is already in prep... the transfusion protocol has started..."
"Transfusion protocol for what?" I demanded, stepping into the light, my weapon leveled at the guard's face.
The guard looked at me, recognized my eyes, and a sickening grin spread across his bloodied lips. "You’re too late, Elizabeth. The old man’s marrow failed last week. He doesn't want the money... he’s taking the primary stem cells from the child's spinal fluid. Once the harvest completes, the child doesn't survive."
A red wave of fury blinded me. Daniel didn't hesitate; he brought the butt of his carbine down on the guard's temple, dropping him instantly into unconsciousness.
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"Elizabeth, breathe," Daniel commanded, grabbing my face with both hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. "We have less than ten minutes. Stay behind me, shoot anything that moves that isn't Chloe or that baby. We finish this now."
We sprinted down the spiral steel staircase toward Level Three, the smell of antiseptic and surgical iodine growing thicker with every step, mixed with the unmistakable, metallic scent of fresh blood.
