"Use it."
Sarah heard the panel being opened. Manual switches being flipped.
Ten. All cleanup accounts mapped.
She turned to Griff, mouthing: "Done."
But through her earbud, Finn's voice was grim: "The auto-trigger is back online. We can't stop it remotely."
“That’s bad, right?” Griff whispered.
“Seriously.” Zara answered over comms as Sarah nodded.
The lock mechanism clicked.
The handle turned.
“I got this,” Griff announced. “Ignore everything. I’ll buy you what time I can.”
Sarah bit down on a scream of protest. Her hopes and wishes meant nothing now.
She turned back to her keyboard, pulling up the auto-trigger system. Seven nodes, all rebuilding themselves despite Finn and Zara's attacks. If she could disrupt them locally, override the regeneration protocol...
"Sarah," Finn's voice urgent in her ear. "The dead man's switch accounts are redirecting successfully. But the auto-trigger—you need to stop it from there. Manual override, server panel Alpha-7."
Her fingers flew across the keys, searching for the right protocol while Griff prepared to hold the line.
The door swung open.
33
Griff did the calculation automatically.
Tactical assessment: Seven contractors visible, more in the corridor. Single entry point—advantage them. Narrow doorway—advantage him. They'd have to funnel through, couldn't use their numbers effectively.
Weapons: They had rifles, sidearms, probably tasers. He had fifteen rounds, one magazine, and whatever he could take from them.
Time needed: Sarah said forty seconds for the auto-trigger.
Probability of success: Zero.
Probability of buying her those forty seconds: Maybe thirty percent.
Good enough.
The words came without thought, stripped down to essentials:God, let me be enough. Let me buy her the time.
Not Tank's flowing prayers or Sarah's quiet faith. Just a soldier asking for forty seconds.
The first contractor through the door was young, confident, and completely unprepared for Griff's elbow to histhroat. He dropped, gasping, weapon clattering across the floor.
The second and third came together, weapons raised. Griff used the first man as a shield, driving forward into them. Close quarters—where rifles became liabilities and training mattered more than firepower.
Behind him, Sarah hammered the keyboard. "Server panel Alpha-7... where is it?"
"Left wall, blue housing," Finn said through comms. "You need to physically disconnect it while entering the override code."
More contractors poured through the door. Four. Five. Six.
