Chapter 86 - The Price of Severance
"Don't touch it, Clara!" Nicholas roared, raising the weapon once more and centering the sights directly on his mother's forehead. "She's lying. If she activates this fleet, the seismic displacement will collapse the entire shoreline from Milwaukee to Gary. Millions will drown!"
Miriam didn't even flinch at the gun. She didn't look at Nicholas. Her eyes remained locked onto mine, unblinking, reptilian.
"He's right about the displacement, Clara," Miriam said without an ounce of remorse. "The shoreline will fracture. The old world will be washed clean. But in this vessel, and in the network of subterranean vaults Henry built, five thousand chosen minds will survive. The Vance line. Your father's legacy. A new civilization, free from the rot of the surface."
"You murdered him," I said, tears of boiling rage burning my eyes. "You hunted my mother, you turned Nicholas into a soldier, you turned our wedding into a psychological execution chamber—and you expect me to hand you the keys to my father's grave?"
"Your father gave you a gift, Clara," she stepped closer, ignoring Nicholas entirely. "He made you the judge. If you refuse to activate the fleet, the reactor containment seals will fail in forty minutes. The EMP pulse from the decoy ship already fried the lake's thermal regulation systems. If the main engines don't ignite, this trench will become a tomb. For us, for the engineers, for Nicholas, and for you."
"We'll take our chances with the escape pods," Nicholas said, lunging forward to grab my arm.
"There are no escape pods, Nicholas," Miriam replied coldly. "You should know by now—I do not design retreats. We conquer, or we sink."
Before Nicholas could pull the trigger, the marble floor beneath us lurched violently.
A deafening groan of tortured metal reverberated through the hull. The crystal chandelier above swung wildly, sending long, jagged shadows dancing across the faux ballroom.
Over the vessel’s automated warning system, a cold synthetic voice announced:
*"WARNING: CRITICAL THERMAL RUNAWAY IN SECTOR 4. DEC-41 CONTAINMENT FAILING. TIME TO FULL CORE COLLAPSE: THIRTY-SIX MINUTES."*
Miriam smiled, offering the silver stylus closer to my fingers.
May you like
"Tick-tock, Clara. Will you let your husband die in the dark, or will you take your rightful place as the daughter of the deep?"
***
