Chapter 26 - Shattered Glass
The thunder of the heavy .50 caliber machine gun mounted on the ship’s upper gantry tore through the concrete pier, pinning Victor’s strike team behind a barrier of shipping containers.
Two Syndicate soldiers went down instantly, blood splashing against the rusted corrugated metal.
"Man down! Right flank!" Nikolai roared, returning fire blindly as the barrage chewed through their cover.
"Clara, stay down!" Victor yelled, throwing his broad body over her as fragments of concrete and metal rained upon their helmets.
"They have the high ground!" Clara shouted back over the deafening cacophony of gunfire. Her tactical mind was racing, analyzing the environment with surgical clarity. "The crane! Victor, look at the automated gantry crane above the bridge!"
Victor looked up through the muzzle flashes. The massive crane held an eight-ton steel shipping container suspended fifty feet above the upper deck where the machine gun nest was entrenched. The control lines ran to an exposed electrical distribution box on the pier crane tower.
"Nikolai! Suppressive fire on the catwalk! Buy me ten seconds!" Victor barked.
"Ten seconds, boss! Moving!" Nikolai and three men surged out, opening fire with light machine guns to draw the heavy gunner’s attention.
Victor turned to Clara. "Stay behind this bulkhead. Do not move."
Before she could protest, Victor broke into an explosive sprint across the open, fire-swept tarmac. Bullets pinged off the ground at his heels, sparks flying like hornets. He dove behind the base of the crane tower, unholstered his sidearm, and fired three armor-piercing rounds directly into the hydraulic release mechanism of the crane hoist.
With a catastrophic screech of failing metal and snapping cables, the counterweight snapped.
The eight-ton shipping container plummeted from the sky like a falling meteor, smashing directly through the upper gantry bridge. The heavy machine gun, the nest, and five of Vance’s elite mercenaries were instantly obliterated beneath a mountain of crushing steel.
The suppressing fire died instantly.
"Breach the ship! Go, go, go!" Victor bellowed, waving his team forward.
Clara didn't wait. She slung her medical pack over her shoulder and sprinted toward the open cargo ramp, stepping over shattered glass, smoking brass casings, and fallen enemies.
Inside the belly of *The Iron Leviathan*, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and leaking coolant. In the center of the hold sat the four cryogenic transport pods, their digital pressure displays blinking an ominous amber: *COOLANT LEAK DETECTED — PRESSURE CRITICAL.*
"The impact damaged the cooling manifolds," Clara shouted, immediately dropping to her knees beside the primary containment console. "The temperature is rising. If the core hits forty degrees Celsius, the relief valves will auto-purge the VX-9 gas into the atmosphere!"
"How long do we have?" Victor asked, his eyes sweeping the catwalks of the cargo hold, his weapon raised.
"Six minutes," Clara said, her fingers flying over the keypad, typing emergency bypass codes she had memorized from international hazardous materials protocols. "I need to reroute the liquid nitrogen reserves from pod four into pods one, two, and three!"
Suddenly, a loud metallic thud echoed from the dark labyrinth of cargo crates above them.
From the shadows, six armored figures emerged, led by Roman Vance himself. Roman was no longer holding a cane; he wore tactical exoskeleton braces over his legs, his face twisted in a manic, suicidal rage. In his hand, he held a remote detonator.
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"No one leaves this ship alive, Victor," Roman screamed, his voice echoing madly off the steel hull. "If I cannot have this city, you will reign over a cemetery!"
***
