Page 43 of A Ballad of Blackbirds and Betrayal

“Cypher,” Atticus spoke into his comm, “I need you to redirect all available assets to the airfield.Set up a containment perimeter, no one in or out without direct authorization.”

“Already on it,” Cal confirmed.“Local authorities have been given a cover story about a chemical spill.They’re maintaining distance while securing access points.”

“Good.And I want every available intel operative focused on locating Mitchell.He’s going to have contingencies beyond this one.”

“Working on that too.Mitchell’s still in his DC office according to our sources, maintaining his alibi.But he’s running this remotely—we’ve intercepted encrypted video conference signals to the demonstration site.His security chief, Reynolds, has been coordinating the ground operation.Mitchell’s too smart to be anywhere near a bioweapon release.”

Sabrina removed the final seal on the containment unit, exposing a complex mechanism surrounding a central vial of clear liquid—the bioweapon itself, innocuous in appearance but devastating in potential.Surrounding the vial was an intricate explosive device, wires connecting it to both a timer and what appeared to be a remote detonator.

“Cypher,” she said, studying the mechanism, “I’m looking at what appears to be a shaped charge designed to rupture the bioweapon vial and disperse its contents.The timer is connected, but there’s also what looks like a remote detonation receiver.”

“Mitchell’s insurance policy,” Atticus said grimly.“If we disarm the timer, he can still trigger it remotely.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Cal replied, his typing audible through the comms.“Send me close-ups of that receiver.If it’s using standard frequencies, I might be able to jam the signal.”

“And if it’s not?”Eden asked, voicing the question they were all thinking.

“Then we’ve got ten minutes and seventeen seconds to figure out an alternative,” Cal replied.“But let’s focus on the positive, shall we?”

Sabrina exchanged a glance with Atticus, reading the same thought in his eyes that had occurred to her.They needed to remove the bioweapon from the explosive device—separate the weapon from the delivery system.It was their best chance of containing the threat.

“I need micro-forceps and a steady hand,” she said, already reaching for her medical kit.“The vial is secured within the explosive device, but there might be just enough clearance to extract it without triggering detonation.”

“That’s too risky,” Atticus objected.“One wrong move and?—”

“And we’re in the same position we’re in now,” she interrupted.“Look, I’ve got the steadiest hands on this aircraft.I’ve performed microsurgery under combat conditions.If anyone can extract that vial safely, it’s me.”

The seconds ticked by as Atticus weighed the options, his expression unreadable.Then he gave a sharp nod, decision made.“Do it.But everyone else evacuates to safe distance.”

“I’m staying,” Eden said immediately.“You’ll need someone to handle the explosives while Doc focuses on the vial.”

“Both of you, go,” Atticus ordered, his tone brooking no argument.“Get Jacobs and the other prisoners clear of the area.Warlock, coordinate with the containment team on the ground.Doc and I will handle this.”

For a moment, it seemed Eden might argue further, but Nate placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent communication passing between them.With a reluctant nod, she moved to secure the prisoners for evacuation.

“Cypher,” Atticus continued, “I need constant updates on that signal jamming progress.And get me the location of Mitchell’s demonstration site.If this goes south, I want to know exactly where he planned to release this thing.”

“Working on both,” Cal confirmed.“But the encryption on these broadcasts is military grade.It’s going to take time.”

“Time we don’t have,” Atticus muttered, glancing at the countdown:8:49…8:48…8:47…

The aircraft emptied quickly, leaving Sabrina and Atticus alone with the containment unit.She worked methodically, using the micro-forceps with the steadiness that had earned her commendations during her Navy service.The vial was held in place by a custom-designed cradle, surrounded by enough explosive material to ensure complete dispersal upon detonation.

“If I can disconnect these two wires,” she murmured, more to herself than to Atticus, “I might be able to create enough space to slide the vial out without disturbing the pressure sensors.”

“And if the pressure sensors trigger anyway?”he asked, watching her work with focused intensity.

“Then we have approximately three seconds to say our goodbyes,” she replied, not looking up from her task.“Any particular last words you’ve been saving?”

“A few,” he admitted, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly despite the gravity of their situation.“But I’d prefer to save them for a less terminal occasion.”

“Then let’s make sure we get that occasion,” she said, carefully manipulating the first wire free from its connection point.It detached with a faint click that made them both hold their breath, but the timer continued its countdown uninterrupted:7:12…7:11…7:10…

“One down, one to go,” she murmured, shifting her position slightly to access the second wire.This one was more deeply embedded in the mechanism, requiring her to maneuver the forceps at an awkward angle.Sweat beaded on her forehead, but her hands remained steady, testament to years of training and an innate gift for delicate work under pressure.

“That’s it,” she breathed as the second wire came free.“Now for the extraction.”

With painstaking care, she guided the forceps around the vial, securing a grip on the glass container without applying enough pressure to crack it.The clearance was minimal, requiring her to ease the vial upward by millimeters, avoiding contact with the surrounding explosives.

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