Chapter 34 - The Hull Breach
The *Nautilus-4* shot forward like a predatory shark. Claire maneuvered the smaller craft beneath the massive belly of the *Leviathan*, sliding into the turbulent slipstream directly beneath the secondary rescue trunk.
"Targeting rescue hatch bravo," Claire called out. "Magnetic clamps engaging in three... two... one!"
A deafening *CLANG* reverberated through the cockpit as the infiltration sub's powerful neodymium electromagnets locked onto the *Leviathan*’s titanium hull. The violent deceleration slammed Dante and Claire against their harnesses.
"Lock confirmed!" Claire unstrapped herself instantly. "Atmospheric seal pressurized! We have five minutes before their internal sensors register an external parasitic attachment!"
Dante was already up, ripping open the weapon locker in the rear compartment. He pulled out a pair of compact HK416 submachine guns, slamming magazines into both and tossing one to Claire. "Sterling has at least thirty private military contractors aboard. They're veterans, Claire. Not street thugs."
"Good," Claire replied coldly, catching the rifle with seamless muscle memory. "Street thugs are unpredictable. Soldiers follow doctrine. And I wrote the doctrine."
Claire operated the mechanical crank of the *Nautilus-4*’s dorsal hatch. The pneumatic seal hissed, venting a blast of stale, recycled nitrogen into the cabin. Above them was the submarine’s emergency access lock.
Claire raised her weapon, signaling with two fingers.
Dante nodded. He reached up, spun the manual emergency dogging wheel of the *Leviathan*'s outer hull hatch, and threw it open.
Water drained into the bilge pipes with a hollow gurgle. Claire vaulted up into the airlock chamber, her boots landing silently on the steel non-skid decking. Dante followed a heartbeat later, his large frame filling the cramped steel cylinder.
The inner hatch was sealed from the inside, but Claire didn't intend to use a key. She unclipped a shaped breaching charge from her vest, pressed the adhesive strip against the perimeter of the hatch’s hydraulic locking pins, and inserted a silent detonator.
"Eyes," she whispered.
They turned their backs, pressing against the steel bulkhead.
*THUMP.*
The charge detonated not with a roar, but with a sharp, localized shockwave that sheared the heavy steel pins instantly. Claire kicked the inner hatch inward with a devastating front kick.
Smoke billowed into the red-lit interior corridor of the *Leviathan*.
Two mercenary sentries in full tactical gear spun around, their rifles raising. They never had the chance to squeeze the trigger.
Claire fired two suppressed rounds into the first guard's chest plate, dropping him instantly. Simultaneously, Dante closed the distance with the second guard in a terrifying burst of speed. Ignoring the agony in his wounded shoulder, Dante drove his forearm into the man's throat, slamming him against the bulkhead, and delivered a brutal, upward strike with the butt of his weapon that shattered the guard's jaw and dropped him unconscious to the deck.
The corridor was silent save for the low, rhythmic hum of the submarine’s nuclear reactor.
Dante stepped over the fallen guards, his eyes sweeping the branching passageways.
And then, faintly through the ventilation shafts, carried on the recycled air of the dying warship, came the sound.
A baby's muffled sob.
Dante’s eyes narrowed into slits of pure, homicidal focus. "Stern section. VIP quarters."
"It's a trap, Dante," Claire said quietly, reloading her rifle. "Sterling knows the only reason we boarded was for the child. He’s waiting."
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"Let him wait," Dante whispered, stepping forward into the red glow of the submarine's corridor. "He's about to find out what happens when you corner a father in the dark."
***
