The air in the subterranean corridor was thin, stripped of its moisture by the massive nitrogen-cooling arrays that hummed behind the reinforced walls. This was the silent heart of the Federation—a place where life was measured in data packets and the only morality was the balance of a ledger.
"Twenty-two minutes," Linnea whispered, her voice barely audible over the industrial throb of the machinery. She stood perfectly still, her amber contacts reflecting the crisscrossing red lines of the laser grid. "The pressure plates are synced to a frequency of 120 beats per minute. We have to move on the 'off' pulse."
Caspian adjusted his grip on her hand. In the flickering red light, his face—even with the prosthetic layers—looked like a mask of ancient stone. He didn't fear death; he feared failing the woman who had walked into the mouth of hell for him.
"Mark," she breathed.
They moved. It was a macabre waltz. Caspian's heavy, deliberate strides matched Linnea's light, gliding steps. They pivoted and lunged through the laser mesh, their bodies inches apart, the heat of the beams singeing the fine fabric of Linnea's gown and the wool of Caspian's suit. Every time a foot touched the floor, the metal groaned, but the silent turrets in the ceiling remained dormant, their optical sensors fooled by the rhythmic synchronization.
They reached the Vault door—a five-ton disk of solid tungsten. There was no keyhole, no handle. Only a single, black crystalline plate at chest height.
"This is the heartbeat sensor," Linnea said, her breath coming in shallow gasps. "It doesn't just check your thumbprint, Caspian. It checks the specific electrical rhythm of your sinoatrial node. It knows the 'Iron Hand' better than he knows himself."
Caspian stepped forward. He placed his bare palm against the cold crystal.
INITIALIZING BIO-SCAN…
The plate glowed a deep, pulsing blue. Caspian closed his eyes, forcing his heart rate to steady, projecting a calm he didn't feel. He thought of the Grey Zone, of the small, cold room, of the way Linnea had looked at him through the smoke of the shipyard. He forced himself to be the Commander one last time.
PULSE MATCHED. IDENTITY CONFIRMED: VANE, C. ACCESS GRANTED.
With a sound like grinding mountain peaks, the tungsten disk retracted and slid into the wall.
The chamber beyond was filled with a forest of glass pillars, each glowing with the golden light of the Federation's shadow-payroll. These weren't physical coins; they were bearer-bonds, encrypted digital assets that could fund a war or buy a kingdom.
"There it is," Linnea said, sprinting toward the central pillar. She pulled a data-spike from her garter and slammed it into the interface. "I'm initiating the transfer. I'm routing the bonds through a series of ghost-accounts in the Eastern Bloc before dumping them into a public relief fund for the families of the shipyard workers. Julian won't be able to claw back a single cent."
"How long?" Caspian asked, his rifle raised as he faced the open door.
"The encryption is heavy. I need four minutes," she replied, her fingers flying across the holographic terminal.
"You have two," a voice echoed through the chamber.
Caspian didn't have to look to know who it was. The sound of polished boots on marble announced the arrival of Julian Thorne. He stood at the entrance of the vault, flanked by four Enforcers in full tactical gear. Julian didn't look like a hero anymore; he looked like a man who had seen the end of his world and was determined to take everyone with him.
"I have to hand it to you, Caspian," Julian said, his voice echoing off the glass pillars. "Coming back here? It's the kind of reckless, sentimental move I always warned you about. You're a lion who thinks he's a fox."
Caspian stepped into the light, his rifle leveled at Julian's heart. "And you're a snake who thinks he's a king. The bonds are already moving, Julian. By the time you kill us, your army won't have a paycheck."
Julian's eyes flickered to the terminal where Linnea was working. A vein throbbed in his temple. "Kill them," he commanded, his voice trembling with a cold, jagged rage. "Destroy the server if you have to. Just stop the transfer!"
The Enforcers opened fire.
Caspian dived behind a glass pillar, the high-velocity rounds shattering the ornaments of the Federation's wealth. Shards of glass rained down like diamonds as he returned fire, his pulse-rifle barking in short, lethal bursts. He saw one Enforcer go down, then another, but the remaining two pinned him down with suppressive fire.
"Linnea! Status!" Caspian roared over the din of the firefight.
"Ninety percent!" she shouted back. She didn't take cover. She stood at the terminal, her back to the bullets, her body shielding the data-spike. A round grazed her shoulder, tearing the silver fabric and drawing a line of red, but she didn't flinch. "Hold them, Caspian! Just a few more seconds!"
Julian drew his own sidearm, his face contorted. He didn't aim for Caspian. He aimed for Linnea.
"If the Federation falls, you fall with it!" Julian shrieked.
He pulled the trigger.
Time seemed to slow. Caspian saw the barrel of Julian's gun flare. He saw the path of the bullet. With a primal roar, he threw himself out of cover, his body mid-air as he tried to bridge the gap.
The bullet didn't hit Linnea. It hit the central server bank just as the terminal flashed: TRANSFER COMPLETE. 100%.
The feedback from the server surge was a localized explosion of blue electricity. It threw Julian backward into the hall and sent Caspian and Linnea crashing into the far wall.
Silence fell over the vault, broken only by the hiss of escaping coolant and the distant, frantic sirens of the Ministry above.
Caspian groaned, pushing a piece of debris off his chest. He looked over at Linnea. She was slumped against the wall, her silver dress ruined, her amber contacts gone, revealing her natural, piercing blue eyes. She was breathing, but her face was pale.
"Did we...?" she rasped.
Caspian looked at the glowing pillars. They were dark. The gold was gone. "We did it. Julian is broke."
He looked toward the door. Julian was gone, likely fleeing into the upper levels as his authority crumbled in real-time. The two remaining Enforcers were looking at their wrist-comms, their faces masks of confusion and anger. They had just received the notification: their accounts were empty. Their loyalty, bought with gold, vanished with the data.
They looked at Caspian, then at each other. They didn't fire. They turned and walked away into the shadows of the corridor. Without pay, there was no reason to die for a ghost of an empire.
Caspian crawled over to Linnea, pulling her into his arms. He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath hitching. "We have to move. The building will be crawling with Council loyalists in minutes."
Linnea leaned into him, her hand gripping the silver key. "Where to now, Commander?"
Caspian looked up at the darkened vault, then back at the woman in his arms. "Nowhere Julian can find us. It's time the Ghost and the Lion disappeared for good."