Hell Divers III_Deliverance

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “That’s why I have this.” Jordan half-unsheathed the blade. He led the ensign down the passage, where they could speak in private.

  “Have you been able to determine the source of Michael Everhart’s transmission?” Jordan asked.

  “Not yet, sir. I’m working on it but so far haven’t been able to lock on. We’ve been busy with so many other things at the—”

  “This is your priority,” Jordan interrupted. “Get it done.”

  Jordan walked away, leaving Ryan alone in the middle of the passage. Lore and the other militia guards ran after him to catch up.

  The dark passage was lit by multiple emergency lights. Red swirled across the bulkheads and overheads, capturing the freshly scrubbed bare metal on each pass.

  “Sergeant Jenkins, this is Jordan. Do you copy?”

  “Roger, sir. Do you have an update on my—on the divers?”

  “Negative, Sergeant, but I want a sitrep from you.”

  There was a short pause. “I’m currently patrolling outside the trading post to ensure that everyone is where they are supposed to be. Everything seems to be okay, sir.”

  “Good. I’m headed out for a walk.”

  “I wouldn’t advi—”

  Jordan stopped at a porthole and ducked down to watch the lightning blast through the clouds. The storm continued to grow, expanding toward the ship.

  He pushed his headset back to his lips. “Hunt, make sure you put a safe distance between us and that storm.”

  “Roger, sir.”

  “Where are we headed, sir?” Lore asked.

  Jordan ignored the soldier and kept walking. He didn’t have a specific destination—he simply wanted to see what the ship looked like now that the work was done and the bulkheads were scrubbed clean of graffiti.

  He wandered the corridors for a half hour before stopping in the officers’ wing, outside room 789. He ran his fingertip over the rough metal hatch. The stone castle he had sketched as a child was gone. He let out a sigh that was more relief than anything else. The ship was cleansed and purged of the past. They could now focus entirely on the future.

  “Come on,” he said to the soldiers.

  They moved faster through the next corridor, Jordan’s mind racing the entire time. He stopped when he saw a silhouette at the end of the passage. A moment later, another figure emerged. Two teenage kids, wearing brown sweatshirts with hoods up, turned in his direction. One held a paintbrush.

  “Stop!” Jordan shouted.

  The boy took a step backward before taking off running with the other kid. Jordan ran after them, with the two militia guards right behind. He slowed when he saw what the boys had been painting. The image of an officer in a white uniform was crudely splayed on the bulkhead. Red paint dripped from the man’s neck.

  It was a painting of Jordan with his throat cut.

  “Stop them!” he shouted.

  Lore took off running, and Jordan followed a moment behind. But the kids were much faster than Jordan and the soldiers weighed down by riot gear. They lost them around the next corner. After another few minutes of running, Jordan finally stopped, panting, outside the medical ward and put his hands on his knees.

  “Find … them,” he said between gasps for breath.

  He shot a sidelong glance at the medical ward entrance. Since he was here, he might as well pay a visit. He straightened his jacket and walked inside, heart pounding, not just from the stress but because of what he was about to do. Bradley Huff, the oldest doctor on the ship, met him inside the lobby.

  “Captain, are you hurt?” Huff asked.

  “No, I’m here to see Katrina.”

  “Oh.” Huff stood there for a moment, his dewlapped throat quivering as if he wanted to say something else, and then gestured for Jordan to follow.

  As they passed through the ward, Jordan avoided the gazes of the dozen or so patients dying from cancer. The beds were bolted to the deck, and straps kept the patients restrained in case of turbulence. Several nurses were walking freely through the space. They were out of all the cancer-fighting drugs from the surface and had been for months. The only thing left to treat these people were archaic forms of chemotherapy and radiation.

  Huff led him into a wing of isolation rooms where they kept people with contagious ailments.

  “She’s in there,” Huff said, pointing. “I thought she would be better off with some privacy, considering what happened.”

  Jordan didn’t reply. He simply opened the door and walked in. There was hardly enough room inside for him to stand next to the bed. Katrina, restrained by straps, squirmed when she saw him.

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” she growled.

  Jordan watched her struggle, conflicted emotions gripping him. “I just came to deliver a message,” he finally said. “One I think you’re going to want to hear.”

  She stopped struggling and met his gaze, anger burning in her eyes.

  “Michael Everhart is still alive, and he’s found a new airship.”

  Katrina shook her head. “You’re lying.”

  “Why would I lie?” Jordan folded his arms across his chest. “I’m telling you this because I think I know where he’s taking it.”

  Katrina’s eyes widened.

  “No guesses?” he asked. When she didn’t reply, he continued, “He’s trying to find X.”

  “Xavier’s still alive?” Her words were just a whisper, but Jordan heard them clearly.

  “In a way, Janga was right. A man will lead us to a new home. But not one on the ground. Deliverance will carry us into the future.”

  Katrina fought against her restraints again. “You’re crazy, Leon. Do you realize that? You’re insane—oh, and you’re also a murderer.”

  Jordan ran his thumb under the bottom of his nose, scratching an itch. His eyes flitted to Katrina’s midsection. She followed his gaze.

  “I’m not the one that killed our child, Katrina,” he spat, remembering the tray of food she had thrown against the wall of her cell. He was certain she had intentionally stopped eating out of spite. “You’re the murderer. I’d kill you myself, but I’d rather you lie here strapped to that bed and remember what you’ve done, for the rest of your days.”

  He turned away from the bed but then stopped and waved Dr. Huff inside.

  “If she won’t eat, give her a feeding tube,” Jordan said.

  EIGHTEEN

  The lift door to the cargo bay creaked open, and a metal ramp extended to the ground. Michael took a sip of water from the straw inside his helmet and swirled it around his mouth. No matter what he did, he could still taste the rancid swamp water. Hopefully, the pills would keep any infection at bay, but he wasn’t so sure. His gut felt sour.

  The ramp slid out, the metal sinking with a gurgle into the muck. Michael heaved a sigh. Deliverance was docked on the same island where Timothy had dropped them off less than twenty-four hours ago. The graves of his family weren’t far from here.

  “You sure you’re feeling okay?” Layla asked, stepping up to the edge of the ramp.

  “I’m fine, don’t worry.” Michael held his arms out to check his armor one last time.

  “How’s your suit?” she asked.

  “We got most of the dents out, and my battery seems to be fine. It’s still got a seventy-seven percent charge.”

  “You’re lucky, Tin.”

  “I know.”

  He motioned for Layla to follow him down the ramp and out onto the dirt. The fresh graves were about a hundred feet to the right. On the smallest mound of earth, the wooden elephant Magnolia had placed there stood vigil.

  “I hope Timothy doesn’t lose his shit again,” Layla said.

  “He seems okay, and he did come back for us. Saved my life. We owe him.”

  She didn’t respond, which told Michael she either didn’
t want to argue or was worried about the AI overhearing them. In truth, Michael wasn’t sure about him, either, and he planned on keeping a close watch.

  Michael held his rifle scope up to his visor to study the crumbling infrastructure of the city on the hill. Between the ship and the city stood an old building with an island of concrete pumps outside the entrance. A single charred boat rested upside down in the dirt, showing off its rusted belly.

  “Timothy, do you copy?” Michael said into his comm link.

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “Scan the area for contacts again.”

  “Already done, sir. The sensors have not detected anything in the general vicinity. I will inform you if that changes.”

  “Thank you,” Michael said. The AI seemed back to normal, maybe even a little annoyed at the constant requests from the divers. Could a computer program get annoyed? Michael didn’t understand enough about the advanced technology to know.

  He continued to scan the buildings, not trusting the ship’s sensors. The Sirens were still out there somewhere, and the poisonous vegetation was patiently waiting for them to step into its trap. This time, he wasn’t going to let that happen.

  Yes, they were back to square one, as Magnolia kept pointing out. But they all were alive, and that was what mattered. They could still fight another day and continue the search for X.

  “Looks clear to me,” Layla said.

  Michael agreed and led the way past the old gas station. To the east, storm clouds belched lightning.

  “Keep an eye on the storm, too, Timothy,” he said.

  “Yes, Commander.” The AI definitely sounded annoyed.

  Michael wanted to see how Rodger and Magnolia were doing on the hull repairs. Although Layla still had a limp, she was moving faster than Michael and quickly outpaced him. His skull pounded with a mean headache, and his gut roiled with every step.

  It took several minutes just to walk around the massive ship. Michael looked up and studied the exterior as they walked. Hundreds of portholes marked the center line of the dark-gray ship. Two wings stuck out from the top of the stern, and another two jutted from the bottom. The thrusters were centered in the back, near the propeller and underneath the belly, where turbofans lined the bottom like suction cups. The landing gear was the size of a person, but it still didn’t seem big enough to prop up the ship, especially on muddy terrain.

  “There,” Layla said, pointing up to the crest of the ship.

  Two figures were working, their armor illuminated in the blue-white glow of a blowtorch. The divers were repairing the hull where lightning bolts had lashed it.

  “Deliverance has one hell of a thick hide,” Layla said.

  “Hopefully thick enough to get us across the swamps. We should have tried that the first time.” Michael continued to replay the journey in his mind, questioning his earlier decisions. Layla must have noticed, and she put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Don’t beat yourself up. Timothy advised us to go in on foot.”

  “Yeah, but …” Michael still felt guilty. X was out there, and every second that passed put them one second closer to losing him. He closed his eyes against the terrible specter of finding X dead—or crazy, which in some ways would be worse.

  He’s alive, and you will find him. But will he remember you?

  Shaking his head, Michael snapped his eyes open to look at Rodger and Magnolia. They were welding a panel over a damaged section of hull. Neither seemed to notice Michael and Layla watching them.

  “Timothy, do you have an update on the systems?” Michael asked.

  The AI replied instantly. “Life support is at eighty-five percent, sir. I’ve managed to get the main valves back on, and the nuclear reactor is functioning at seventy-five percent. Drain valves and liquid hydrogen fill are working, and the oxygen flow is back at optimal levels.”

  “That’s great,” Michael replied.

  Magnolia and Rodger were both standing now, waving at them.

  “How are things going?” Rodger called out.

  “Listen for yourself,” Michael said.

  Timothy continued relaying updates over the channel. “Distribution lines are mostly clear, but we have some blockage in compartments thirteen through sixteen. One of you will need to open those manually.”

  “I can clear that valve,” Layla said. “I’m the smallest of us.”

  Michael looked back up at Rodger. “How much longer until you guys are finished up there?”

  “A few hours.”

  “You have one hour,” Michael replied. He turned to Layla. “Let’s go get those valves cleared.”

  They walked back toward the open ramp leading to the bow, their boots sinking into the muddy terrain.

  “I … I really thought I had lost you earlier,” Layla said suddenly.

  “It’s going to take more than that to kill me.”

  She stopped and grabbed his hand, stepping up close so their helmets were just inches apart.

  “You’re always trying to be tough, like X, but you don’t have to be. I miss you. I miss being with you.”

  Michael gripped her hands. “I know, but it’s not as if we’ve had much time.” The excuse sounded flimsy even to him. “I’m sorry. Come on, maybe we can take a detour on the way to that valve.”

  She chuckled. “How romantic.”

  Michael led her back into the ship, already imagining the two of them slipping into a cabin and feverishly removing each other’s armor and suits. It might not be romantic, but he needed to touch her, to be touched. He needed the human connection.

  Lightning corkscrewed over the shattered city in the distance, and Michael glimpsed what looked like a statue perched on one of the rooftops.

  “Timothy,” he said into the mike, “do another scan.”

  “Yes, Commander.” A second later, the AI reported that the area was clear of contacts. Unconvinced, Michael aimed his rifle and zoomed in using his night-vision optics.

  “Do you see something?” Layla said, following the angle of the barrel.

  The statue—or what he had thought was a statue—suddenly moved, extending long limbs and climbing down the side of a building and out of sight.

  “A Siren,” he said, lowering his rifle.

  Timothy reported the contact over the comms.

  “Rodger, Mags, they’re out there, so stay sharp,” Michael said. “Layla, change of plans. You go fix the valve. I’ll stay here and make sure those Sirens don’t get the drop on us.”

  She hesitated, her hand lingering on his arm, and then nodded. He watched her walk up the ramp. When she was gone, he sighed again and checked the magazine in his rifle. It was fully loaded. He charged the weapon by pulling back the slide to chamber a round and then set off to patrol the area for contacts.

  * * * * *

  Team Phoenix had gone silent over the comms after the Siren sighting. Olah hadn’t reported anything since then, and the quiet was making Les crazy. He tried to stay calm, but his hands were shaking and he was cold, which made his thin body spasm.

  Gritting his teeth, he held up his wrist monitor. Cords connected the device to the control panel of the steel bunker door. Ty stood a few feet behind him, pacing with his blaster leveled at the dark corridor, helmet light raking back and forth.

  “Should we hail Commander Jenkins?” Ty asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “What about Olah? Do you think he’s okay?”

  “I don’t know, man,” Les replied. He tried not to snap at Ty, but his nerves were getting to him and the questions were hurting his head—both the ones Ty was asking out loud and the ones Les was asking himself. He still had no idea whether Ty was telling the truth about X. Had Captain Jordan really left the legendary diver on the surface after learning that he was still alive all those years ago? And if so, why?

 
Ty shifted his light to the open door at the other end of the corridor. A sign marked the wall there, but Les couldn’t make it out. He looked back at his monitor. Three of the five numbers had solidified on the screen. Breaking the lock’s code was taking far longer than he had anticipated.

  “Come on, you piece of crap,” he muttered. Both his arms were shaking now, and he dropped his pistol hand to his side. The fourth number flashed on the screen. Only one more to go. Les alternated his gaze from the screen to the hallway, where he could see the rope hanging in the elevator shaft.

  “You really think X was here?”

  Ty shrugged. “Who else would these tracks be from?”

  Les took a moment to think. His mind was full of burning questions. “Why the hell would Jordan leave X behind? It made no sense. He was one of the best divers in history.”

  “Simple,” Ty replied with a snort, as if Les were a little thick for not figuring it out sooner. “Katrina.”

  “Huh? What’s she got to do with anything?”

  “They had a thing, X and Katrina, long time ago.”

  Les shook his wrist, trying to keep the blood flowing. “Why would that matter now?”

  “You really don’t know shit, do you?” Ty turned toward Les, and his helmet beam hit him in the face.

  “Get that light out of my eyes.”

  “Sorry,” Ty said. He moved to point the light at the steel door they were trying to open. “Jordan and Katrina got together. Thought they were keeping it a secret, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes, especially when she got pregnant.”

  “No shit?”

  A nod from Ty. “So when we got the SOS from Hades that proved X was alive, Jordan decided to leave him down there.”

  Les shook his head. “Jordan abandoned X just to keep his woman?”

  “Mostly. That and the fact X had survived so long in a place Jordan doesn’t think is habitable. Reckons if it got out he was alive and had been for years, people would demand that he land the ship.”

  “Well, now that I’ve seen what’s down here, I’m with Jordan. Our future is in the sky.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact that Jordan left X down here to die,” Ty said. “That’s not right. He was a hero.”