A little boy wriggled past Jordan, his lower-decker father right behind him. The child pointed through the window and asked, “Papa, what’s in those boxes?”
His father lifted the boy up to give him a better view. “Medicine for Mama,” he said. He glanced at Jordan and added, “Thank you, Captain.”
The unexpected words of gratitude made Jordan pause. He couldn’t remember the last time a lower-decker had shown him any respect.
“You’re welcome,” Jordan said.
“Sir,” Hunt called from inside the launch bay, “shall I clear the passage outside?”
“No, I want them to see this.”
Jordan continued into the room. He had lifted the shelter curfew so people could see the synthetic food, cancer drugs, and supplies being unloaded. It was amazing how fast people forgot their grievances when their bellies were full and their loved ones were healed.
The hiss of air filled the launch bay as he approached the dome in the center of the room. Sergeant Jenkins was waiting near the crowd of support staff.
Through the fence of red and yellow jumpsuits, Jordan glimpsed four divers inside the reentry zone. That was good. One accidental death and one problem dealt with. They were still hanging from the balloons that had pulled them into the air. A metal floor clanked shut, and one by one, the divers dropped to the floor.
“There’s only four,” Jenkins said, his voice panicked. “What happened? Who’s not here?”
“We must have lost another diver on reentry,” Hunt said.
Jenkins elbowed his way through the crowd, pushing technicians and engineers aside to see whether his daughter had made it home. The sergeant’s muscular body visibly relaxed when he learned that Erin had returned. Jordan joined him to get a better look.
White mist hissed into the reentry tube, covering the divers inside. Technicians, Dr. Huff, several nurses, and other personnel crowded around the dome. Jordan made his way over to a burly bearded man.
“How are things here, Samson?” Jordan said.
The chief engineer wiped his mustache with his greasy fingers. “Not good, Cap. We lost Ty.”
“That’s a shame,” Jordan said, giving his best rueful frown.
Pulling out a handkerchief, Samson dabbed his forehead. Jordan wasn’t sure how anyone could be overweight aboard the airship, but Samson had somehow managed it. His jowls shook as he spoke.
“I don’t know what he did to earn his time in the brig, but he was a damn fine technician.” He shook his head. “We can’t keep losing people that are impossible to replace, Cap.”
“I know that.” Jordan held back the dressing-down he wanted to give Samson in front of his engineering staff. The engineer disgusted him, but he would be vital when they took over the other airship. “How much longer until they’re done?” Jordan asked, gesturing toward the decontamination tube. The mist continued swirling inside, shrouding the divers. Seconds later, jets fired, coating the ghostly figures in white foam.
“Depressurization is complete; now we’re sterilizing. Shouldn’t be too long.” Samson shook his head. “Can’t believe we lost Ty.”
Jordan pretended to share the chief engineer’s regret. Ty had seen too much and guessed too many of Jordan’s secrets. Now the problem was dealt with, and Jordan could relax a degree.
Floor vents inside the dome clicked on, and white mist vented out of the ship. A second jet sprayed the divers with water, rinsing the foam off their armored bodies. Jordan found Jenkins again in the crowd. The sergeant moved from side to side to get a view of his daughter.
“She’s okay,” Jordan said. “And she did a fine job.”
“Thank you, sir.”
A team of techs carried the first of the cargo crates out of the room. Several militia soldiers armed with crossbows followed. Jordan could no longer hold back a smile. Team Phoenix had returned with an impressive haul for their first dive, and he had one man to thank for giving them the location. X was the gift that kept on giving. The thought soured his smile.
At the portholes along the wall, dozens of lower-deckers were still peering in, their grubby faces expectant, eyes on the crates.
“Not chanting about wanting a new captain now, are we?” Jordan muttered. He wondered whether the teens who had defaced the bulkhead with his effigy were out there watching. It was only a matter of time before the militia found them, and when they did, he would make sure no one tried such a thing again.
The lift clanked down over the dome. The technician controlling the device expertly pulled the plastic roof off the divers.
“Jenkins, have them meet me in the ops room after they finish decon,” Jordan said.
He clapped Samson on the shoulder and walked away from the crowd, continuing to the operations room, where he unclipped his sword and placed it on the table. He glanced over at the pictures on the black bulkhead, stopping on X last. It had been a few days since the legendary diver haunted his dreams. Maybe that was because Jordan no longer feared the man. After losing his child and Katrina, the only thing he had left to lose was his command. And if the people wanted that, they would have to kill him.
Fifteen minutes later, the door opened and Jenkins walked inside. Erin, Jennifer, Les, and Olah followed him in, their hair still wet from the showers.
“Welcome back, Team Phoenix,” Jordan said. He took the seat at the head of the table and motioned for them to sit.
The door clicked shut, and the sergeant stood in front of it, hands behind his back. He looked at his daughter, but she kept her sharp brown eyes on Jordan. She had performed well under pressure on the surface, it seemed, but he wondered how she had handled listening to Ty’s death screams. After the botched sabotage of Magnolia’s chute, he had been more meticulous with Ty’s booster. Still, he would have preferred not to put Miss Jenkins through the emotional stress of losing another team member after the disaster that claimed her previous crew.
The divers looked exhausted and horrified—especially Jennifer, who shivered and stared blankly ahead.
Les Mitchells sat calmly, hands clasped on the table. Olah, pale and sweating, smiled proudly when Jordan looked at him.
“You have done well and should be proud of yourselves,” Jordan finally said. “I’m here to congratulate you on one of the most successful dives in recent memory.”
Erin fidgeted in her chair but didn’t say a word.
“I’m sorry about Tom Price. I didn’t know him well, but he seemed a good man. As for Ty, well, perhaps I made a mistake in sending him to the surface. Before we proceed, I need to ask you all a few questions about him.”
Jordan scrutinized the divers’ reactions. Mitchells seemed agitated. He unlaced his fingers and picked at a nail. Jordan read the subtle clues in the man’s expression, his movements. Even the slightest hesitation in a response would tell him when someone was lying.
“Did Ty say anything to any of you that could be considered treasonous?”
Jennifer, still shivering, managed to shake her head. “I never talked to him. Cagey son of a bitch—begging your pardon for my language.”
“How about you, Commander?” Jordan asked.
“No sir. He was quiet the entire dive. Except when … well, except at the end.”
“A tragedy,” Jordan said. “I’m sure you did all you could.”
“The only person he was alone with was Les,” Erin added.
Jordan watched Les’ Adam’s apple bob in a dry swallow. He focused on the tall man.
“Anything you’d like to report, Les?”
“He asked me for a weapon when we heard the Sirens,” Les said. “And I’m sorry, but I gave him my blaster. I was scared, sir. I thought, better to have us all armed if we were forced to fight.”
“I approved it,” Erin said. “That’s on me.”
The ship groaned, distracting Jordan. He looked at his wr
istwatch. Right on time.
“Are we moving?” Jennifer whispered.
Jordan ignored her. “Did Ty say anything else?”
“No, sir.”
There was no hesitation, and Les didn’t look away. Deep down, Jordan felt a flood of relief. He couldn’t afford to kill Mitchells. The man was an engineer and now a Hell Diver. Samson was right. They couldn’t afford to lose people like that.
“Good,” Jordan said. “Despite his history, Ty sacrificed himself for the good of everyone, as did Tom Price. For that, we honor them.”
“We dive so humanity survives,” the divers said quietly.
“And you will continue to do so. That’s why I called you here. There’s been an exciting development.” Jordan pushed his mike to his lips and said, “Hunt, direct full power to the turbofans and rudders. Full speed toward Deliverance.”
“Roger that, Captain,” came the response in his earpiece.
Jordan stood and clipped the sword back onto his belt, wanting to present an impressive image for his big announcement—after leaving the divers in suspense a moment longer.
“The reason we are changing course is confidential. It does not leave this room. Understood?”
Four immediate nods, and a fifth from Jenkins.
“I’ve been informed Commander Everhart and some members of Team Raptor survived at the Hilltop Bastion. Those traitors managed to find another airship, which they have commandeered.”
Jennifer stopped shivering and sat up in her chair. Olah’s brows scrunched together, and Les stopped picking at his fingernail. Erin was the only one who didn’t react.
Jenkins paced away from the door.
“We’re going to find that ship,” Jordan said. “I firmly believe that our future will continue to be in the sky for the next two and a half centuries. This new ship will serve as backup in case something happens to the Hive. It will be imperative to our survival as a species.”
“How do you expect to find her, sir?” Erin asked.
Jordan smiled. “I can’t tell you that. But when I do find Deliverance, you’re going to help me take it from Team Raptor.”
Silence filled the room. Jenkins scratched at the back of his neck and glanced at his daughter. She stared at Jordan with an unreadable expression on her face.
“I’ll brief you when I know more,” Jordan said. “Go see your families and get some sleep. You deserve it. Just don’t mention what we discussed here. Dismissed.”
Jordan held up his hand before Les could leave. “Not you,” he said.
The diver backed away from the door and turned to face him. Les was a foot taller, and Jordan had to tilt his head back slightly to meet his eyes.
“I sure hope you’re telling me the truth about Ty,” he said. “Because if you’re not, I’m going to be very disappointed. Are you sure there’s nothing else?”
Les hesitated a second and then nodded.
“Don’t forget that Trey is being held in the brig,” Jordan said.
“Not likely to forget that,” Les said, then added a belated, “sir.”
Jordan regarded him for a long moment, trying to find the lie hidden behind the taller man’s wary expression. “That’s all. Dismissed.”
“Thank you, sir,” Les replied.
Jordan watched him leave. Les knew something, and he was going to find out exactly what it was.
* * * * *
One year and nine months earlier
Xavier brought his rifle up, the buttstock nestled in the sweet spot against his shoulder, and scanned the hallway of the underground ITC facility. After slaughtering the female Sirens on the bridge, he had put another needle in his vein. The second dose coursed through him now, warm and intense. He could feel his pulse pounding in his neck, and his vision had narrowed as if he were seeing the world through a pair of binos.
X was ten floors belowground now, making his way toward the medical center—one of the most dangerous parts of any ITC facility. He had been in enough bunkers over the years to know the layout. The smooth concrete shells, narrow corridors, and massive warehouses all looked essentially the same outside and inside.
The medicine he sought was likely stashed next to the cryogenic chambers, in the heart of the facility, where the Sirens often returned for fresh meat.
He stopped to rest on the next concrete landing, blinking to clear his vision. Sweat rolled down his forehead, and his throat burned. The cancer was eating him alive. It didn’t seem any better than being torn apart by Sirens. The monsters killed you quickly, at least.
He started to move when he spotted slime on the stairs. He shined his helmet light on the glistening goo. The Sirens had been here—recently.
Keep moving, X.
Cryogenics couldn’t be much farther. He hoped the female Sirens he had killed with his motorcycle were the only ones that lived in this facility. With luck, he could get in and out without another fight. But he also knew not to count on luck. X put his faith in bullets and medicine.
A sound rose over his labored breathing. Somewhere high above him, a screech of metal echoed through the abandoned building. Or had it come from below?
X paused on the steps to listen, then eased over to the steel door on the landing. It was unlocked, and he slowly pushed it open. The long hallway led to another door, marked communications. Inside were radio equipment and computers. Nothing of use to him.
After closing the door, he waited another few minutes, then continued down the stairs. The Cryogenics lab was three floors below. As he suspected, the door was wide open. The medical ward would be close, maybe even the next floor down. But first he had to pass the open doorway.
He shut off his helmet light and left his NVGs off, for fear that the battery would attract the Sirens. He took two very cautious blind steps. Once he knew he was past the open door, he stopped and reached out for the wall and used it to guide him across the next landing.
Faint scratching came from the other side of the wall, like a child dragging fingernails down a bulkhead. Grunting followed. Animalistic, almost sexual.
X shivered, but not from fear. He was running a fever again. Whatever was on the other side of the wall was preoccupied for now, though he had no doubt it would happily slaughter him if it noticed his presence.
Don’t … stop … moving.
His fingers felt along the wall until he reached the edge of the stairs. As he slowly took a step down, his rifle scraped the wall.
The sounds shut off like a light switch, and silence filled the stairwell. He froze with his boot in midair.
He closed his eyes and waited, heart pounding, blood singing in his ears. Trying not to breathe audibly. Trying not to move at all. His leg began to shake after a few seconds, and he slowly brought it down to the next step. His boot touched down with a soft thump.
A high-pitched alien cry replied.
He didn’t waste any time in reaching up to flip on his light. The beam shot out and captured an eyeless face staring up at him from a few steps below. The sinewy white-gray flesh of a Siren hurtled forward, clawed hands reaching for his throat.
The adrenaline rushing through his system saved his life. X matched the monster’s speed, bringing up his rifle and firing a burst through its rib cage. Shrieking, it slammed into the wall.
X loped down to the next landing, looking desperately for the medical center. He tried the door, but this one was locked.
Enraged wails rang out above, spurring him on. He continued around the corner, sweeping his light and rifle muzzle over the stairs. His vision flickered, red suddenly washing over everything. He blinked, and the red faded.
Shit. Not good.
The stairs were chipped and broken, but clear of contacts. The sight of the medical symbol, two serpents coiled around a winged staff, got him moving like a man half his age.
He
cleared the corner and turned to make sure the beasts above him weren’t following. Their wails continued, but they weren’t in sight. He flung open the door and burst into the passage with his rifle out front and his finger on the trigger. Clear.
He closed the door and ran for the next one. Letting his rifle hang from the strap, he pulled his pistol and fired into the lock. The report filled his helmet, drowning out the rush of blood in his ears. Moving into the room, he swept the pistol over a space furnished with islands and workstations. His beam captured the freezer and several storage areas—the most likely places to start looking.
Halfway across the room, a wave of dizziness washed over him, and sharp pains raced up his left arm.
Was this the moment when his heart finally gave out?
He eyed the cabinets not a hundred feet away.
X waited for his heart to slow from automatic gunfire to a fairly normal pace. It was taking too long. Sweat crept down his scalp.
He ignored the wails above and focused on his breathing, inhaling for a count of five, exhaling for a count of seven. The rhythm gradually calmed his racing heart, and he felt steady enough to move. He crossed the room and began raiding cabinets.
Ten minutes into the search, he found a freezer, still powered by a generator somewhere deep beneath the ground. The second drawer contained cancer meds. X stuffed them into his backpack and went back out into the hallway. He listened for beasts at the door but heard nothing.
The facility had gone quiet again.
He slowly opened the door and moved into the stairwell. Sure enough, it was empty. With the precious cargo on his back, he headed up the stairs. With each step, the grunting and crunching noises he had heard earlier grew louder. This was nothing like the normal emergency-alarm screech the Sirens made. He came to the carcass of the female he had killed on the way down, and nudged it with his boot.
At the next landing, he turned off his helmet lamp and flipped on his NVGs. He peered around the corner and into the open cryogenic chamber. Once his eyes adjusted to the green light, he scanned the massive room filled with silos like the one where he had found Miles. Hundreds of capsules lay shattered and empty. Several rows back, however, motion flickered around one of the towers and up the side.
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