Hell Divers

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  X jumped down off the vehicle and checked his HUD. The rogue beacon was now on top of their supplies. Whatever it was, it had found their gear, and until he had heavy weapons, he didn’t want to risk a confrontation with a potential hostile.

  The second supply crate was in the industrial zone, over three miles away. Two hours had elapsed. They should have been at the crates and on their way to their main objective, but a quarter mile of knee-deep snow had cost them time and energy.

  “These radiation readings are getting higher,” Murph said. “We’re slowly cooking standing here.”

  “We aren’t going to be down here long enough for it to make a difference,” Katrina said, pushing her way through the powder to where X stood. “Whatcha thinkin’?”

  “Something doesn’t smell right,” X said. He was fixated on his HUD. The beacon had stopped at their crate for several minutes now. “The way I see it, we have two options. We could abandon the first crate and risk crossing the rest of the city and the industrial zone without automatic weapons, or we could check this one out.”

  Tony said, “We still have twenty-two hours. I say we find a way around the first crate. If one of those things is there, I don’t want to face it with a blaster and this dinky pistol.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I want to cross the industrial zone with these dinky pistols and blasters, either,” said X. “If we run into Sirens, we’re fucked.”

  “We gotta think about the weather, too,” Murph added. “If it gets worse, we don’t want to get stranded without supplies.”

  “He’s right,” X said. “We need the gear from the first crate.”

  “Okay,” Tony said.

  X waited for a “but” to follow. When it didn’t, he said to Katrina, “You good with that?”

  She nodded.

  “Me, too,” Magnolia said. “Not that anybody’s asking.”

  X turned back to the street. “Stay close, and keep sharp. The first crate is four blocks from here. We move fast but cautiously. Got it?”

  Getting four nods, he broke into a jog across the snow, and the others followed. A light powder began to fall as they ran.

  At the next intersection, he signaled for all to stop. The divers crouched and stared at a green apparition flapping in the wind on the right side of the road. Finally realizing that it was a parachute, X lowered his blaster. The chute was green, but divers from the Hive always flew black chutes.

  “Diver at six o’clock,” X whispered. “Doesn’t look like one of ours. I’ll check it out.”

  Hugging the banked snow against the buildings, he warily approached the canopy. Beyond the chute, he saw armor half covered by snow. He pulled the canopy away and bent next to the body. The head was buried in snow, and he dug for several seconds to uncover a female face he didn’t recognize, staring back at him with frozen, dead eyes.

  He waved his team over without shifting his gaze away from the woman. She must have been part of the Ares team. Brushing the snow off her chest plate to search for a weapon, he saw the empty battery housing. Indeed, she had been stripped of much of her gear.

  “What the fuck?” X said.

  His team hovered over him and stared at the corpse.

  “Where’s her gear?” Tony asked.

  “I don’t know. Makes no sense.”

  He wiped the toxic flakes that had collected on his visor. The beacon on his HUD was finally moving away from their crate. He didn’t have time to ponder what it all meant. Now was their chance to get to the crate and arm themselves before they ran into the Sirens.

  “Time to move,” X said. He motioned his team on, and they left the dead diver where they had found her, just as he had left Aaron and so many others before her.

  * * * * *

  Travis leaned down and put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. He was still unconscious. Alex had hit him hard—way too hard.

  He glared at Alex, wanting to slap the crooked grin off that scarred face. Killing a Militia guard for their cause was one thing, but shooting an unarmed engineer and hitting a kid?

  “What the hell is the matter with you?” Travis snapped.

  Alex took a step back. “Little fucker deserved it for kicking me, Trav. He’s one of them spoiled upper-decker brats.”

  “Doesn’t give you the right …” Travis took a breath. Arguing with Alex wasn’t going to get Raphael out of jail or get them any closer to justice for those belowdecks. He had to keep a tighter rein on the others—especially Alex.

  He checked the boy once more. He looked to be not much older than ten—about the same age Travis had been when his father lost his life on a routine dive. He respected the boy for standing up to Alex. It reminded him of himself at that age.

  “Don’t touch him again,” Travis said. He rose to his feet and looked at the overhead and the curved bulkheads.

  The ship wasn’t shaking anymore, but something was still wrong. Every few minutes, the Hive would shiver as if it was fighting for altitude. Maybe Captain Ash wasn’t lying after all. Maybe the ship was in trouble.

  No, Brad was right: the ship was always in trouble. Nothing had changed, and he wasn’t about to back down now. His brother was still rotting in jail, and the lower-deckers were still suffering.

  Travis slung the rifle over his back. Alex, too, was right about something: the kid was an upper-decker, and that made him valuable.

  “When the kid comes around, let me know. I have an idea.”

  * * * * *

  Captain Ash hammered the wall with her fist, drawing several stares. She was beyond frustrated. The Militia should have seen this coming. They should have had someone keeping an eye on Travis since his brother landed in prison after the riots years ago. Somehow, amid the chaos of life aboard the ship, Travis had fallen through the cracks. She blamed herself, too. She had been too lenient with the lower-deckers when she put an end to the random Militia searches for contraband and weapons. She had required the Militia to have probable cause before searching the trading post and belowdecks. Her decision was an effort at appeasement, but in the end, it had helped doom them all.

  But pointing fingers or dwelling on her mistakes wouldn’t fix the ship. She had to move on. She had to continue to lead.

  Jordan’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

  “Captain, we have no other choice. We can’t meet their demands, and Travis doesn’t sound like he’s going to budge. We have to raid the farm.”

  Ash looked at her second. His features were stern and strict. He was the most loyal officer she’d ever had under her command, but his overeagerness to raid the farms proved he still had a lot to learn about leading.

  “There has to be another way,” Ash said.

  She walked over to the top of the ramp. The main display on the bottom floor showed the Hell Divers’ mission clock. Below that, another number was counting down: the Hive’s altitude.

  “Nineteen thousand feet,” Ash said.

  “And dropping,” Jordan replied. “Which is why we need to get control of the farm. We need one of Samson’s men in there.”

  Ash continued down the ramp to her chair.

  As she passed navigation, Ensign Ryan stood. “Captain, I’m getting odd readings from the electrical storm over Hades.”

  Ash paused on the stairs. “What kind of readings?”

  “Something seems to be happening inside the storm.”

  “Is it growing?”

  “Slightly, but our sensors are picking up activity on the surface. Looks like a surface storm of some sort is moving across Hades.”

  “What’s our distance?” Ash asked.

  “We’re two miles away.”

  “I doubt we can go above it this time,” Jordan added. “And there’s no way we can outrun it if it grows bigger.”

  “We can’t abandon the divers, either,” Ash said.
“They’re our only chance of staying in the air.”

  “I know, but I would suggest putting some distance between us and that wall of cumulus,” Jordan said, staring at the screen.

  “Agreed,” Ash said. “Tell Samson to direct some power to the rudders. Take us off autopilot. You’ve got the wheel. Remember, if the divers send up those crates, we have to be in range to pick them up.”

  She watched lightning break across the skyline on the front display. X was down there, doing his part to save the ship. He had never asked for anything back until this last jump, and she had already broken her promise to him. Tin was now a hostage, or worse.

  “On second thought, I’ll take the wheel,” Ash said. “Jordan, radio the strike team. Tell them I want a plan that doesn’t involve shooting up the ship and getting everyone on the farm killed.”

  * * * * *

  Icicles like spears hung from the metal awning of a building at the end of the street. The lower floors were buried in snow, and X couldn’t see a way into the frozen structure.

  They were four hours into the mission, and he wasn’t going to risk another step until he had a look at that crate. It had landed in the street beyond this building. If they could get inside, he could scope the area before committing them to the open ground surrounding the crate. The rogue beacon had vanished off the minimap, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

  “Looks like there’s a way in over here,” Magnolia said. “Come on.”

  X trailed the divers through the gusting wind to a snowbank that rose to a third-floor window. He had missed it on his first pass.

  “I’ll go first,” Magnolia offered.

  “No, kid, you won’t,” X replied, pushing past her as he unsheathed his tactical knife. “I’ll check it out. You guys hold here.”

  Magnolia protested, but X scrambled up the wall without her. Sure, she was fast, and she was good at sneaking into places, but Hades wasn’t some guarded pantry on the Hive. She wasn’t ready for what likely awaited them at the ITC building. X wasn’t sure he was ready.

  He lost his footing before he reached the window, and only a quick two-handed thrust of the knife into the hardened snow saved him from sliding back down to the street. Punching knees and toes and elbows into the snow, he carefully worked his way up, jammed the blade in with each incremental gain. At the top, he grabbed the twisted window frame and peered inside. The hallway was a foot deep in windblown snow, but he could see all the way through to the other side. He stood there for a moment, listening to the building’s whispers and creaks.

  “See anything?” Katrina asked over the channel.

  “Negative. I’m going in.” X pulled himself through the window frame and crouched on the other side. The only sound was the hiss of the wind and the soft breathing of his team over the comm.

  With his blaster out, he moved cautiously down the hallway. Pausing at every doorway, he peered into each room. In the final room, the top of a boxy machine rose above a deep drift of snow. The faded round red, white, and blue logo bore the letters “PEPSI”—an acronym for some ancient make of ’shine, judging by the image of a bottle below the logo.

  X pushed on, working his way down the passage. The rusted legs of several office chairs formed a barrier a few feet from the window at the far end of the hall. Careful not to disturb anything, he navigated his way around them.

  Reaching the window, he set the blaster down on the snow-covered floor and pulled out his binos. The street below was still except for the white flurry carried by a gust of wind. Drifting snow was already covering the crate, but whoever or whatever had been there earlier was gone now.

  “All clear,” X said. “Get up here. I’ve got eyes on the supplies.”

  Magnolia was first through the window at the opposite end of the hallway. He could hear her crunching over the snow at a brisk pace.

  “Slow down,” he whispered over the comm.

  She kept coming fast until she reached the end of the hallway, where she tripped over the first chair leg, snapping it free and crashing into the wall.

  The loud clatter reverberated through the building.

  X muttered an oath and scrambled over to her. “God damn it, Magnolia, tell the Sirens where we are, why don’t you!”

  She stood up and brushed off her armor. “I’m fine. And … I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying—”

  A distant high wail cut her off. A second call answered, echoing through the frozen ghost city. X plucked the blaster off the floor and hissed, “Quiet, everyone!”

  Tony, Murph, and Katrina stopped at the other end of the hallway.

  “What is that?” Katrina whispered.

  “Trouble,” X said. “You have better eyes than mine. Check it out.”

  She continued down the hall, stepped around the upended chair, and took his binos. She raked them back and forth over the street. “I don’t see anythi … Wait, did you see that the crate’s open?”

  X nudged closer to the window and took the binos back. Sure enough, the crate’s lid was popped open. Whatever had beaten them to the supply box had also found a way inside.

  “Kid, you still want a chance to show how fast you are?” X asked.

  Magnolia started to nod, then froze as another wail came on the wind.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you.” He examined his blaster, hoping it wasn’t too frozen and praying he wouldn’t have to use it.

  * * * * *

  Tin awoke to the worst headache of his life, and the overwhelming stench of chicken manure. He tried to open his eyes but couldn’t manage to crack them more than a sliver. He tried to move his hands, but they were bound behind his back.

  He could hear human voices—faint but close. There were animal noises, too. Barking dogs and … Then he remembered the ruptured gas bladder.

  His heavy eyelids popped open to the sight of dirt. Using his head to push against the ground, he got his knees under him. He gagged and spat out a mouthful of dirt and manure.

  “Kid’s awake!” shouted the man who had hit him. He sauntered over.

  Tin wiped his mouth against his chest and looked around. The hostage farmers were sitting to his right. They were all just outside the entrance to the plastic clean room.

  Alex stopped in front of him. “You left a nice bruise on my ankle, kid. Looks like I left you with a bigger one, though.” He chuckled and made a fist. “Want a matching set?”

  “Hitting a kid,” one of the farmers said. “That’s makes you a real sack of shit in my book.”

  Alex walked over to the farmer and kicked him in the gut. The man rolled on his side. Between gasps, he yelled, “You son of a bitch!”

  “You don’t know when to shut your mouth,” Alex said.

  “Enough!” Travis shouted. He and the other two men emerged from the plastic door of the clean room. Alex kicked the farmer a second time, then walked away.

  “I’m sorry,” Tin whispered.

  The man groaned. “It’s okay, kid. Better me than you.”

  Tin struggled with the bindings, working his wrists back and forth until he felt them tighten into his flesh.

  “What’s your name?” the farmer asked.

  “Tin.”

  “I’m Angelo. Do me a favor, okay?”

  Tin nodded.

  “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  The squeak of the plastic door pulled Tin’s attention back to the four men. They were talking in hushed voices by the entrance, but he could hear most of the conversation.

  “Trav already told you we aren’t killing hostages,” said Ren.

  “Ash isn’t going to take us seriously until we put a bullet in someone,” Alex said.

  Travis spat in the dirt near Alex’s boots as another warning. “You already did that.”

  “I’m talking about hostages,” Al
ex replied, his tone more reserved.

  Travis shook his head. “Get the captain back on the comm one more time,” he said. “Now that the kid’s awake, I have a new offer to make.”

  Alex shook his head. “Kill the little shit. Then she’ll listen.”

  Travis glared at Alex. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

  Scowling, Alex followed Ren to the comm while Travis and Brad remained at the door to the clean room.

  Tin clicked his tongue to get Angelo’s attention. When the men weren’t looking, he whispered, “I have to get to that gas bladder.”

  Angelo gave him a stern look. “No,” he whispered. “Didn’t I just say not to do anything stupid?”

  “I have to,” Tin said. “The ship’s going to crash if I don’t.”

  Angelo seemed to consider Tin’s words. After a pause, he whispered, “You’re going to get killed.”

  Tin wiggled his wrists again, wincing as the plastic ties cut into his flesh. “Maybe, but if I don’t do it, everybody’s going to die.”

  TWENTY

  X hugged the snow barriers around the buildings, with Magnolia close on his heels. Flurries swept across the road, blurring his line of sight. According to his sensors, it was negative thirty degrees Fahrenheit.

  “Stick right behind me,” he said. “When we get to the end of the street, you’re going to work.” He didn’t know that he was making the right call, but she was faster than he.

  “Roger that,” she replied.

  Halfway to the crate, he paused and listened. There it was, faint and blending in with the whistling wind: the distant keening of the Sirens. The creatures were out there, prowling the city for their next meal, and it was only a matter of time before they found X and the other divers.

  He waved Magnolia forward and broke into a hunched-over trot, keeping as low as he could. At the intersection, he dropped to one knee and waited, eyes scanning. Searching.

  “Okay, you’re up, kid. Get to the box and check it for weapons. I’ll cover you from here.”

  X watched the glow of Magnolia’s battery unit as she darted across the street. A few seconds later, her staticky voice crackled over the comm.