Chapter 94: Flipping the Switch
Rowan Mercer swallowed the last sip of black tea, savoring the rich warmth as it settled against the dry chill of his throat. He lowered the heavy ceramic cup, setting it down with a soft click against the circular silicone ring embedded in the slate desktop.
The steam had finally ceased rising from the dark glaze, leaving the rim cool beneath his thumb.
Beside him, Orson Drake stood with his arms lowered, holding the tactical tablet loosely at his thigh while his eyes remained locked onto the wide monitoring bank. The room hummed with the quiet rhythm of the server racks, a steady sound that had insulated the command deck from the howling coastal blizzard for twenty four days.
Rowan leaned forward in the high backed leather chair, resting both forearms
