Chapter 24 - The Ascent of Ghosts
Evacuating Eleanor Hayes was an operation of desperate millimeters. Her body was frail, suffering from long-term low-oxygen exposure, advanced vitamin deficiencies, and the debilitating cold of the deep trench. Vance and Rebecca secured her into a pressurized evacuation pod, rigging portable oxygen tanks to the life-support harness.
As they hauled Eleanor through the umbilical tunnel into the *Mystic*, the habitat groaned around them. A massive support strut sheared away near the docking ring with an ear-splitting crack that echoed through the structure like a cannon shot.
"Hatch sealed! Disconnect umbilical!" Vance shouted, slamming the manual dogging wheels down on the rescue submersible’s hatch.
Through the forward viewport, Rebecca watched the central dome of Outpost Aethelgard buckle inward under thousands of tons of crushing seawater. The explosion of bubbles and debris sent violent shockwaves through the water, spinning the *Mystic* sideways as Vance fought the hydraulic thrusters to keep them from being dragged into the trench.
"Main ballast blowing!" Vance gritted out, pulling the emergency purge valves. "We're heading up, Admiral, but we've got turbulence from the collapse!"
Inside the tiny cabin, Rebecca hovered over the evacuation pod. Eleanor’s pulse was erratic, fluttering like a trapped moth beneath her paper-thin skin. Rebecca adjusted the flow of oxygen, tears dropping onto the glass visor of the pod.
"Stay with me," Rebecca commanded, her voice fierce with the authority of an officer and the desperation of a daughter who had spent a lifetime fighting for family who never appreciated her. "You survived twenty-five years in the dark, Mom. You don't get to die on my watch. Not today."
Eleanor’s hand moved weakly, tapping twice against the glass of the capsule. *I'm here.*
It took two agonizing hours for the *Mystic* to ascend through the lightless column of the North Atlantic. When the submersible finally breached the stormy surface, surrounded by the towering steel hull of the USS *Vanguard*, the destroyer's crew executed a flawless recovery operation. The deck crane hauled the craft aboard amidst howling arctic winds and driving sleet.
The *Vanguard’s* medical bay was ready. Navy physicians, warned by high-priority encrypted dispatches, swarmed the capsule the moment it crossed the threshold of the trauma unit.
Rebecca stood back, soaking wet, her uniform salt-stained and grimy, as the medical team stabilized Eleanor with warm intravenous fluids and advanced hyperbaric oxygen therapy.
Lieutenant Commander Lin approached, holding a secure satellite tablet.
"Admiral," Lin said softly. "The Pentagon has caught wind of our diversion. Admiral Sterling from the Joint Chiefs is on the scrambled line, demanding an immediate sitrep on why a guided-missile destroyer abandoned its station."
Rebecca wiped the sea spray from her face, looking through the glass window at her mother, who was now sleeping peacefully, her vital signs steady for the first time in decades.
May you like
"Put Sterling through to my ready room," Rebecca said, her eyes flashing with cold, unyielding resolve. "And tell legal to draft an immediate warrant for federal deposition. We aren't just filing an operational report today. We're tearing down every corrupt legacy that put my mother in that trench."
***
