sent out a ship wide call. “All teams report to SRU HQ. Code Black.”
Orion crossed the room to the ship wide alarm. He lifted the lid and slapped the button before grabbing the red handset. The alarm started to blare as he ordered, “This is the admiral speaking. This is not a drill. I repeat. Not a drill. All hands to battle stations. All civilians shelter in place. I repeat. All hands to battle station. All civilians shelter in place.”
While the order repeated on a loop overhead, Orion replaced the handset and raced toward the door. He was already using his shoulder mic to contact the bridge, giving orders to shut down and isolate all the HVAC systems. “What do you mean it’s down? Get someone down there and fix it!”
“What now?” Vicious asked, stopping his own orders mobilizing the land forces on the ship.
“We can’t shut down the HVAC systems. Our bridge control has been overridden.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Vicious growled. “Let’s go.”
The general and admiral disappeared from the room, and Raze pointed at him. “Stay here. You’re our link with Shadow Force.”
“Got it.”
Raze, Venom and Menace rushed from the room, and Torment tossed a gas mask at him. “Here. Weapons and gear over there. Take whatever you need.”
Cipher needed only the mask and rushed to a computer. He used his credentials to get into the live security feeds of the brig, the bridge and SRU. They were all hives of action as soldiers and airmen tried to get control over the situation. With those displayed on a separate large wall screen, he started pulling up maintenance and security feeds from the HVAC units.
“Oh, fuck me,” Savage all but shouted. “Is that Terror?”
Cipher turned to see the screen behind him where he had sent the feeds to be displayed. Terror had a knife in his hand and slashed at Reckless, cutting free the duffel bag he had slung over his shoulder. Small canisters of emergency oxygen fell out and rolled around on the floor.
His stomach dropped, and his heart skipped several beats as the last person he ever expected to see in the damn bowels of the ship appeared. “Brook!”
“Shit.” Savage stepped closer to the screen. “Tor, get our boys down there. Immediately. Terror needs backup.” As if remembering that Brook was his mate, he glanced at Cipher and said, “She’s a smart girl. She’ll stay out of trouble.”
“Clearly not!” he snapped.
Why was she even there? He had told her to go back to their quarters after dinner. She had promised she would. She had promised she would take her treatment and wait for him. How the fuck had she ended up in the most dangerous place on the ship?
“Where is she going?” Torment asked as Brook dragged the bag of emergency oxygen away from the two fighting men. “What the fuck is he spraying at Terror?”
“Tear gas?” Savage guessed. “It’s not fatal whatever it is. Reckless wouldn’t be dumb enough to use something in close quarters without a respirator in place.”
Cipher’s gaze danced between Terror and Reckless and his mate. “She’s moving back to the HVAC unit.” He jumped back to the computer and took control of the cameras there. He moved the view to the right and managed to get a good look at the massive unit. “Oh, shit.”
There were canisters of gas hooked up to the ducts.
“Are those active?” Savage demanded.
Cipher zoomed in as Brook rushed toward a canister of gas and started pulling on the tube that had been spliced into a duct. He held his breath as she tore it free. If there was gas flowing, she would be dead in a few seconds. When she moved to the next duct, he released the breath he had been holding. “No.”
“But where is Rake?” Torment asked. “Unless he died in the brig attack, he’s got to be somewhere on the ship.”
Savage did a quick count of the bodies in the hallways of the brig. “No, he’s not there.”
“How many bodies were in the pulmonary unit?” Torment asked.
“Seven,” Cipher said, his focus never leaving Brook as she bravely dismantled the gas tubes. “There are six canisters on that unit.”
“So, where’s the last one?” Savage wondered. “With Rake?”
“Probably,” Torment agreed.
“Do we think it’s the NA-9X?” Savage rubbed his jaw. “It would make sense, right? Keep the worst gas for another part of the ship?”
“The bridge?” Cipher suggested, still watching Brook. “Or maybe the central units that supply air to all of the mission centers? SRU, Bridge, pilot’s deck,