The yellow scuttle lever slammed into its bottom notch with a thunderous metallic clang.
Inside the Continental 816R transmitter cabinet, two massive solenoids fired with the crack of rifle shots.
High-voltage warning horns blared across the gallery, pulsing in harsh, rapid bursts.
The amber lights on the master power rack snapped to flashing crimson.
Julian lunged across the sleet-slick catwalk to the reinforced quartz window, bracing his shoulder against the external bulkhead frame.
The twenty-thousand-volt gauntlets on his hands gripped the exterior intercom switch beside the thick glass.
“Step back from that cabinet, Cross!” Julian shouted through the bulkhead speaker, raising Officer Greaves’s fiberglass dielectric hook.
Director Evelyn Cross did not flinch.
