Chapter 46 - The Siege of Pier 44
The surface of Boston Harbor was shrouded in a thick, sulfurous fog when the *Leviathan* scraped its belly along the silt of the inner shoals. Through the submarine’s periscope, the scene was devastating.
The two Consortium corvettes were anchored half a mile offshore, their deck-mounted autocannons systematically sweeping the shoreline with heavy, high-explosive fire. Further up the coast, smoke billowed into the gray sky from the Sterling estate; the proud bluffs had been scarred by artillery, the mansion’s south wing reduced to smoking rubble.
"Julian and Victoria," I whispered, my heart clutching in terror. "Did they make it out?"
"They’re Sterling operators," Nicholas said, though his jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle twitched violently in his cheek. "They know the egress routes. But if we don't silence those corvettes, the assault teams will hunt them down in the woods."
"The corvettes have heavy armor on their waterlines," Arthur noted, his hands resting on the periscope controls. "Our torpedo tubes are empty. All we have left is the 30mm deck gun and small arms. We can't punch through their hulls."
"We don't punch through their hulls," I said, studying the shoreline layout. "We cut their communication and targeting arrays. They're operating on an encrypted network relayed through a command hub. If we can seize the harbor master's crane tower at Pier 44, we can tap into the port's industrial high-voltage grid."
Nicholas looked at me, understanding igniting in his eyes. "The magnetic surge transformers. We overload the harbor grid and project a localized electromagnetic pulse straight across the water."
"It'll fry every circuit on their corvettes," I finished. "Their fire-control computers, their radar, their engines. They'll be sitting ducks for the Coast Guard cutters already steaming in from Cape Cod."
"We need boots on the pier to manually trip the breakers," Arthur said, cocking his silver revolver. "And that pier is currently crawling with Consortium mercenaries."
"Then we give them a fight," Nicholas said.
We surfaced inside the cavernous, rotting belly of Pier 44's abandoned warehouse, the black hull of the *Leviathan* rising silently from the oily, stagnant water beneath the wooden piers.
The moment the top hatch swung open, the stench of cordite, burning timber, and salt hit us like a physical blow. Gunfire was already echoing from the landward side of the docks.
"Someone's already engaging them," Nicholas said, his eyes widening.
Through the broken windows of the warehouse, muzzle flashes lit up the dense fog. We scrambled up the rusty ladder onto the wooden platform, weapons drawn.
Suddenly, two figures burst through the corrugated metal doors, firing controlled bursts behind them.
"Victoria! Julian!" I cried out.
Julian spun, his rifle instantly snapping toward us before he recognized Nicholas. "Boss! Elena! Thank God!"
Victoria ran toward us, her tactical vest covered in drywall dust and soot, a bleeding graze along her temple. "We lured their vanguard down from the estate! But they've got thirty men pinned around the crane tower! They're trying to set up an anti-air battery to keep the military off their backs!"
"You're alive," Nicholas said, clapping Julian’s shoulder with fierce relief before turning to the door. "Status on the high-voltage breakers?"
"Locked behind the primary substation on the third floor of the tower," Victoria reported, catching her breath. "The mercenary commander has fortified it. A man named Vance. Vivienne's former chief of security."
"Vance is a dog," Arthur’s voice boomed from the shadow of the submarine hatch as he climbed onto the pier.
Julian and Victoria froze, their eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated shock. Julian actually lowered his weapon, his mouth open.
"Arthur...?" Julian stammered, looking as if the devil himself had walked out of the ocean. "Mr. Sterling?"
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"Save the reunion for the wake, Julian," Arthur growled, racking the slide of a combat shotgun he had brought from the sub's armory. "We have twenty minutes before the tide turns and those corvettes figure out we aren't at the bottom of the trench. Move!"
***
