He held a heavy brass flashlight in one hand and a radio in the other.

Lieutenant Carter stood behind him, looking pale and holding a standard-issue sidearm.

Two base security guards stood behind Carter, their faces blank under their helmets.

“Step aside, Chief,” Turner said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Can’t do that, Captain,” Hayes said.

“This is your last warning,” Turner said.

He nodded to one of the security guards, who stepped forward with a heavy halligan bar.

The guard jammed the iron tool into the gap above the safety chain.

With a hard heave, the guard pried the chain from its mounting on the wall.

The door swung fully open, hitting the interior wall with a loud clang.

The smell of burnt metal and fuel rushed into the small room.

Turner stepped over the threshold, his boots crunching on the dried paint flakes.

He looked at me, then at the black screen of the terminal.

“Where is the drive?” Turner asked.

“It’s gone, Turner,” I said, keeping my hands visible at my sides. “The data didn’t leave this room.”

“Search her,” Turner ordered the security guards.