Chapter 47 - Ghosts of the Deep
Sterling did not look like a phantom. He looked like an apex predator who had spent thirty-six years in the shadows, waiting for his prey to grow weak. He wore an immaculate, unadorned black naval uniform. His hair was iron-gray, his posture rigid, and his scarred face twisted into a smug, triumphant grin as we entered.
Flanking him were two heavily armed private operators in unmarked tactical gear, their rifles immediately leveling at our chests.
"Eleanor Vance," Sterling spoke, his voice smooth and devoid of human warmth. "And young Commander Vance. How remarkably poetic. The old man sent his grandson and the cripple to stop the inevitable."
"Drop your weapons, Sterling!" Liam commanded, his rifle trained dead center on the rogue Admiral's forehead. "Your board members are in federal custody. The Shadow Echelon has fallen. You're commanding an iron coffin with nowhere to run!"
Sterling let out a dry, rattling laugh. "You foolish boy. You think this was about corporate power? You think this was about Croft's offshore accounts or Halston's stock options? They were cowards. They wanted money. I wanted order."
Sterling pointed to the massive primary telemetry display behind him. The four kinetic rods were fully charged, the targeting markers locked onto every naval base from Norfolk to Groton.
"Your grandfather’s navy is obsolete," Sterling sneered. "A bloated, decadent empire that surrendered its will to politicians and corrupt bureaucrats. Tonight, I decapitate the Atlantic fleet. When the ocean is cleared of Vance’s obsolete iron, Hull 00 will dictate the terms of peace to the entire world. And your father's brilliant design will finally achieve its true purpose."
"My father designed this ship to defend freedom, not to murder it," I said, stepping forward, letting my mechanical leg echo against the steel deck.
Sterling’s eyes dropped to my leg, his sneer deepening. "Your father was weak. Just like you. A broken mind in a shattered body."
"Then you should have studied his blueprints more carefully, Admiral," I said quietly.
Sterling frowned. "What?"
"My father knew you were corrupt," I said, my voice cold, steady, and lethal. "He knew you were skimming classified titanium allotments from the drydocks. He knew you intended to steal this ship. So when he designed the central launch computer, he didn't just install a fail-safe."
I reached into my utility pouch, pulling out the small optical drive I had retrieved from my father's desk hours ago.
May you like
"He installed a ghost."
***
