The Thames River was choppy, grey waves slapping against the wooden pilings.

In the distance, the black hull of the USS Vanguard sat low in the water.

Floodlights illuminated the deck, where three sailors were securing lines.

“We need to get to the sail hatch,” I said, my breath fogging in the cold air.

“The bridge access is usually open during pre-start,” Hayes said.

We reached the security gate at the entrance to Pier 3.

A young guard stepped out of the wooden watch box, his rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Hold on, Chief,” the guard said, raising his hand.

“No unauthorized personnel on the pier.”

“Emergency protocol, Corporal,” Hayes said, not slowing down.

He flashed his tactical badge.

“We have an active system compromise on the Vanguard.”

The guard hesitated, looking at Hayes’s uniform and then at my civilian ID badge.

“Captain Turner said—” the guard began.

“Turner is on his way,” Hayes lied smoothly. “Get out of the way.”

The guard stepped back, his hand falling away from his holster.

We sprinted down the concrete pier.

The wind off the river was biting, stinging my cheeks.