Chapter 7 - CODE BLUE IN WARD FOUR
The lead StrideCore interceptor surged through the black waves, pulling alongside our starboard quarter. Its heavy steel-reinforced bow began edging inward, preparing to ram our smaller craft and grind us into the harbor pilings.
Through the tinted glass of the interceptor's cabin, I saw the cold, impassive face of Victor Lang’s chief of security. He raised a heavy pneumatic launcher, aiming directly at our engine block.
"Now, Arlo!" I screamed.
Dr. Kane slammed the enter key on his ruggedized tablet.
The high-power broadcast transmitter built into the field kit emitted a massive radio-frequency burst.
The interceptor boat’s digital instrument cluster instantly flared bright crimson. The fly-by-wire steering system experienced an immediate catastrophic torque fault. The automated safety subroutine kicked in, violently locking the twin outboards hard to port at maximum speed.
The interceptor hooked violently sideways, catching its own wake, and rolled upside down in a massive wall of white spray and twisted fiberglass, colliding directly with the second chase boat trailing behind it. Both vessels erupted in a non-lethal fireball of burning fuel and screaming electronics, spinning out of control into the dark open waters of the bay.
Alvarez carved through the remaining wreckage, guiding the battered Boston Whaler into the restricted military harbor of Naval Station Norfolk.
Waiting on the concrete pier under the heavy floodlights of the naval base was a full platoon of Master-at-Arms security forces, accompanied by three military ambulances and Rear Admiral Nathan Brooks in full dress uniform, flanked by the Provost Marshal and two agents from the Naval Criminal Investigative Service (NCIS).
The moment our boat bumped against the rubber fenders, Nathan leaped over the gunwale and pulled Owen into his arms.
"I've got you, son," Nathan choked out, burying his face in Owen's hair. "I've got you."
"Dad," Owen whispered, pointing down at his legs with a tired, triumphant smile. "Look. Lauren made me walk. I didn't fall."
Nathan looked at me, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and nodded with a profound, unspoken gratitude that no words could ever capture.
Twenty minutes later, we were secured inside the intensive care ward of Portsmouth Naval Hospital. Dr. Kane was being treated for his shoulder wound under armed guard, while Owen slept soundly in a clean hospital bed, his mechanical brace resting safely on the bedside table.
I stood by the window with Nathan, watching federal agents unload the forensic data drives from the red Pelican case.
"NCIS and the Department of Justice have enough here to indict Victor Lang on forty counts of wire fraud, reckless endangerment, and obstruction of justice," Nathan said quietly. "The DOD has officially frozen StrideCore’s defense contract."
"Then why do you look like the battle isn't over?" I asked, sensing the tension radiating from his posture.
Before Nathan could answer, the hospital room door swung open.
Special Agent Miller of NCIS walked in, his face grim. "Admiral, we have a critical situation. Victor Lang didn't flee the country. Two hours ago, he obtained an emergency federal injunction from a corrupt district judge, claiming StrideCore is the victim of military intellectual property theft. He has locked down the StrideCore pediatric clinical wing at Norfolk General Hospital."
"What do you mean, locked down?" I demanded, my clinician's instincts screaming.
"There are fourteen children currently strapped into X9 suits for a mandatory overnight calibration trial," Miller said. "Lang has initiated a remote firmware patch to overwrite the defective code before our federal warrants can be served. But according to Dr. Kane’s blueprints, running that patch while the suits are under load will cause an instantaneous, irreversible actuator lock on every single unit."
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I grabbed my medical kit. "Those children's legs will snap within seconds if those motors lock under tension. We have less than forty minutes before that patch deploys."
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