Captain Garrett Stone stepped to my side, carrying a specialized military pediatric transport incubator:
“Dr. Mercer, Captain Henderson has authorized the immediate medical evacuation of Chloe Vance aboard Lead Bird Nine-Seven-Two,” Garrett reported:
“She will be admitted directly to Northwestern Memorial’s pediatric cardiovascular ICU under Title Fifty military medical clearance. Her pericardium is stable. She is safe.”
I looked at Chloe sleeping peacefully under the oxygen mask.
I leaned down, gently touching her small shoulder:
“You’re going to be whole, sweetheart,” I whispered:
“The flight is over.”
I turned to Admiral Mercer, reaching into the breast pocket of my blue scrub top.
I pulled out that four-inch antique solid-titanium surveyor’s compass transit key, stepped with fifty-six analog cryptographic notches:
KEY IDENTIFIER: MERCER-ARTHUR-010
CLASSIFICATION: STRATEGIC SOVEREIGN ESCROW // TITLE 50 CONTINUITY
TITLE: CONDUIT TEN // THE CAPITAL COMMAND SPUR
The fifty-six analog notches caught the overhead lights, casting fifty-six razor-sharp rectangular shadows across Melissa Vance’s tear-stained face.
