Chapter 13 - The Trojan Horse
The rain had finally tapered off into a cold, misty drizzle by the time the three humans and one Doberman crawled out from the hidden mouth of the drainage culvert into the thick briars of the lower creek bed.
Morning was still two hours away, leaving the landscape wrapped in a deep, impenetrable blanket of pre-dawn darkness.
Using a series of overgrown maintenance trails known only to base personnel who had worked deep-reconnaissance logistics, Vance led them silently across the outer perimeter fence of Fort Detrick, slipping through a blind spot where the motion sensors had been manually disabled during the initial alert.
They weren't heading for the K9 kennels or the administrative barracks this time.
They were moving directly toward the central command bunker—a heavily reinforced subterranean dome buried beneath three layers of reinforced concrete and protected by an independent power grid.
"There," Vance whispered, gesturing toward a heavy steel fire exit set into the side of the earthen berm surrounding the dome. "The secondary maintenance access. If the electronic locks are still powered by the grid, we'll need an analog override."
"I have the master bypass codes from the old Balkans deployment manifest," Nora said, stepping forward with a small, specialized data-cable tool she had salvaged from Station Delta's communication console. "Holloway never bothered to change the secondary sub-net encryption keys."
She knelt before the electronic security panel mounted beside the heavy steel door.
Her fingers flew across the tiny mechanical keypad, plugging the data-cable into the diagnostic port and executing a series of rapid terminal commands.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. ACCESS GRANTED.
The amber indicator light shifted from red to brilliant green.
With a low, pneumatic hiss, the heavy fire door clicked open.
"In," Vance ordered quietly.
They slipped inside the command dome like shadows, moving down a sterile, white-tiled hallway lined with sealed server racks and automated monitoring terminals.
The command bunker was eerily quiet.
Most of the base personnel and security details had been deployed into the surrounding mountain grid to hunt for the escaped fugitives at the cold-war safehouse.
Only a skeleton crew of two junior communications officers sat at the primary monitoring station at the far end of the domed room, their backs turned as they mindlessly drank black coffee and watched radar sweeps.
"Creger, secure the hallway," Vance whispered, easing the injured petty officer against the wall with his sidearm drawn. "Nora, with me to the primary terminal."
They moved with absolute, predatory silence across the polished linoleum floor.
Before the two junior officers even realized they had company, Vance and Nora were standing directly behind them.
"Don't touch the alarm toggles," Vance said smoothly, pressing the cold barrel of his sidearm against the back of the nearest officer's neck. "Just slide out of the chair."
The officer froze, his eyes widening in absolute terror as he slowly raised his hands and slid sideways onto the floor.
The second officer made a sudden, desperate grab for the red emergency broadcast button on the console.
Before his finger could press the plastic cap, Ranger surged forward, slamming his heavy paw directly onto the officer's wrist and pinning his hand to the desk with a low, menacing growl.
"Smart dog," Nora murmured, sliding into the primary operator's chair.
Her fingers flew across the mechanical keyboard, bringing up the encrypted master terminal interface.
"I'm patching into the Pentagon joint staff channel," Nora said, her voice completely steady as lines of complex, high-level code scrolled across the holographic monitor. "Uploading the Balkans deployment archives... including the unredacted audio logs of Admiral Holloway authorizing the Sector Four abandonment."
"How long until the broadcast hits the global defense network?" Vance asked, keeping his weapon trained on the doorway.
"Thirty seconds," Nora said, hitting the final execution command. "Once this packet goes live, every military base, intelligence agency, and news outlet in the Western Hemisphere will have simultaneous access to the truth."
Suddenly, the massive steel security doors at the front of the command dome shrieked open with a deafening crash.
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Armed guards poured into the room, led by Admiral James Holloway himself, his dress uniform immaculate, his eyes blazing with cold, calculating fury.
"End of the line, Lieutenant Vance," Holloway snarled, raising his sidearm directly toward Nora's head. "Drop the terminals. Now."
