"Your oxygen levels are critical, civilian."
Commander Hayes projected his disciplined voice through the ceiling intercom. The spec ops leader watched his captive through the hidden security feed.
Malcolm stood in the freezing fog of the subterranean vault. The air inside the sealed room was growing thin and toxic. His lungs burned with every shallow breath.
Black spots are dancing at the edge of my vision, Malcolm noted in his mind. The carbon dioxide is reaching lethal toxicity. My heart rate is spiking. I need to control the panic.
"Give me the Leviathan access codes," Hayes demanded over the speakers. "I will cycle the ventilation system. You can breathe clean air again."
"I am not negotiating with a dead man," Malcolm replied. His metallic voice echoed in the dark concrete space.
