Chapter 99 - Descent to Crush Depth
The deck pitched forward at a steep twenty-degree angle. Loose tools, steel casings, and debris slid down the corridor with a clattering roar.
Julian was intentionally plunging the submarine into the deepest abyss of the Cascadia Trench—a depth far beyond the structural rating of the hull. He had realized that with his acoustic cover blown, escape was impossible. He would rather crush the ship, destroy the evidence, and escape via his personal escape pod than allow the United States Navy to capture the syndicate's flagship intact.
"The structural integrity won't hold!" Clara cried out, her hands pressed against her ears as the outer hull emitted a series of horrifying, shrieking groans.
The pressure at six thousand feet was beginning to deform the secondary bulkheads. Rivets popped like rifle shots from the overhead girders, ricocheting through the corridor. A narrow seam along the outer hull cracked, unleashing a razor-sharp jet of ice-cold seawater that sprayed across the gangway with enough pressure to cut through human bone.
"We have to get to the escape pods!" I shouted over the deafening scream of twisting steel.
"Where are they?"
"Forward command section. Deck two!"
We fought our way uphill against the severe angle of the deck, dragging ourselves along the metal handrails. Every foot of progress was a battle against gravity and the escalating violent tremors of the dying submarine.
As we reached the upper catwalk overlooking the main torpedo bay, the blast doors at the far end slid open.
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Standing on the central bridge walkway, wearing a pressurized deep-sea survival suit and holding an automatic assault rifle, was Julian. Behind him was the gleaming titanium hatch of a four-man deep-submergence escape capsule.
"End of the line, Marcus!" Julian shouted across the yawning chasm of the bay. "The pod only holds two, and I have no intention of sharing it with family!"
