Chapter 47 - The Chairman’s Final Hand
"Step away from that reactor, Sterling," Michael said, advancing down the causeway, his rifle trained dead-center on the Admiral's chest. Beside him, Lucas moved with tactical precision, taking cover behind a fallen column of black basalt.
Sterling didn't flinch. He casually tapped the screen of his tablet.
"You really don't understand what this place is, do you, Michael?" Sterling chuckled, walking toward the railing of the scaffolding. "You thought this was an ancient weapon. You thought the Navy was hiding some doomsday device. But this isn't a weapon, Commander. It’s an engine."
"An engine for what?" Lucas yelled from behind cover.
"A stabilization engine for the Mid-Atlantic tectonic fracture," Sterling replied, his smile vanishing, replaced by cold fanaticism. "The Earth's crust is cracking, boy. The magnetic poles are shifting. The global financial cartels—the men you call 'The Syndicate'—they don't care about countries, flags, or borders. They care about survival. This vault was built by an advanced intelligence before the last ice age to keep the continents from splitting apart."
Sterling pointed at the *Acheron's* glowing reactor. "The ancient power source burned out twelve thousand years ago. When your submarine suffered its 'accident' in 2000, we realized that your unique thorium-fusion design was the only thing capable of keeping the engine's core ignited. But keeping it here protects *everyone*."
"And you don't want to protect everyone," Michael said, his voice cold as liquid nitrogen. "You want to harvest the core, take it to your private bunker under the Alps, and let the rest of the world drown."
"The herd must be culled, Commander," Sterling sneered. "Only the worthy survive the great flood."
"Shoot him, Dad!" Lucas shouted.
May you like
Sterling pressed a red trigger on his wrist. "Kill them both. And drop the blast doors!"
***
