Elder Sterling tucked the emergency alarm talisman into his leather belt, letting out a low, satisfied grunt.
He grabbed Relay-Captain Venn by the collar of his navy robes and dragged the unconscious officer across the polished obsidian floor.
“I will tie him to the ventilation pillar,” Sterling muttered, pulling two coils of thick sea-hemp from his satchel. “He will not wake up until tomorrow afternoon.”
Sera Thorne kicked the heavy bronze doors shut, sliding the massive locking bolt into place.
“The outer towers are secure,” Sera reported, leaning Storm-Pike against the stone archway. “The sentries are bound, gagged, and tucked under their bunks. Deacon Vane is maintaining the radio watch on the flagship.”
The chamber grew still, save for the low hum of the soul-crystal console in the center of the grotto.
The ten-foot crystal slab stood like a pale green monument.
Dozens of thumb-thick bronze cables entered the base of the console, channeled through iron floor conduits that converged from the surrounding ocean.
