Hell Divers III_Deliverance Read online

  “Why did you volunteer?” Jordan asked.

  “Oh, right.” Mitchells scratched his scalp. “I’m here because I ain’t got no choice. My boy got caught stealing, and Sergeant Jenkins said my service will reduce his sentence. My wife is sick and needs meds—something I can’t afford. I was promised help in return for service.”

  Jordan glanced at Jenkins. The sergeant’s reluctance to meet his gaze did not inspire confidence. Was Jenkins hiding something? Was he planning something?

  The more Jordan thought about it, the more his unease grew. After Katrina’s betrayal, he had no one left he could fully trust—not even the loyal sergeant who had served in the militia for almost as long as Jordan had been alive.

  You can trust yourself—and only yourself.

  Jordan looked at the final recruit, a well-built man with thick strawberry-blond eyebrows that seemed to be trying to make up for the lack of hair on his bald pate.

  “I’m Don Olah, with the militia. I’m here because I want to continue serving my ship and my captain. I feel diving is the best way to do that, sir. I will happily give my life so humanity can continue in the sky.”

  Jordan nodded at him, acknowledging his bold words. Finally, a man worthy of being a diver.

  “While I appreciate those of you who volunteered, I will remind you that this is not a job. Diving is a duty—a duty that men and women have done for hundreds of years. Most of you are here because you want to help your families, but I suggest you start thinking like Ensign Olah.” Jordan paused and added, “If you fail, your families will die—along with all the rest of us. You are humanity’s last hope.”

  Olah saluted, but the other three just stared blankly ahead, either too afraid to speak or too overwhelmed by the burden of the captain’s words to muster up a salute of their own.

  “Since you’re all new, we’re going to start with green-zone dives,” Jordan said. “I’ve got a list of places I want you to scavenge.”

  “Sir, could I speak to you in private for a moment?” Jenkins asked.

  Jordan looked at the divers once more before following Jenkins over to the operations room. As soon as the door was shut, Jordan let out a sigh and said, “This is the best we have left on the ship?”

  “No, but the best all hold important jobs,” Jenkins replied. “We can’t afford to take men out of engineering or the water treatment plant right now. It’s a matter of bodies—we don’t have many left.”

  “We have four hundred and eighty-four passengers, and you’re telling me we don’t—”

  “Sir, with all due respect, have you been to the lower decks lately?”

  Jordan paused and then shook his head.

  “Most everyone below our boots is starving or sick. They don’t have the energy to train, and they definitely don’t have the energy to dive. Most of them aren’t educated, either, and it would take too much time to explain how all this works.”

  Jordan cursed. Losing Michael Everhart and the others had come at a heavy price. With their deaths, the Hive had lost not only experienced divers, but engineers as well.

  “What about the fifth diver I asked for?” Jordan said. “Certainly you can find one more. I eventually want two teams again, maybe even three.”

  “I’m still working on it, sir. Thought maybe we could make some sort of an arrangement with that technician, Ty Parker.”

  “Negative,” Jordan said. “Parker is a traitor, and I don’t trust him. He knows too much. I can’t afford to let him out of the brig.”

  “I say give him the ultimatum: dive with a chute as long as he keeps his mouth shut, or dive without one.”

  Jordan eyed the collection of framed photographs, some of them dating back decades, that covered one wall of the operations room. Dozens of Hell Divers stared back, their expressions ranging from cocky to scared, to stoically noble. “As it happens, I’ve taken matters into my own hands.”

  Jenkins raised a gray eyebrow. Jordan pushed the black bead of his headset comm link to his lips. “Lieutenant Hunt, send our recruit to the launch bay.”

  “Roger that, Captain,” Hunt replied over the channel.

  “Our fifth diver will be here in a moment,” Jordan said. “Is there anything else you wanted to report?”

  “Yes, sir. There’s one other thing.”

  Jordan clasped his hands behind his back and waited.

  “Sir, you tasked me with finding the divers, but I have no idea how to train them. I’m a militia man, not a Hell Diver.”

  “That won’t be a problem,” Jordan said. He studied the wall of photographs and stopped on Aaron Everhart, Michael’s father, who had died on a mission over a decade ago.

  Jenkins looked confused. “Lane and April are the only two divers left, and they’re both out of commission. Unless you mean to release Katrina?”

  Jordan looked next at the photo of Katrina, pinned up beside Xavier Rodriguez, the ghost that haunted his dreams. The two had been lovers, and he had to admit they made a good-looking couple. For years, Jordan had wondered whether Katrina still missed X, but now it didn’t matter. She hated Jordan, and he doubted there was anything he could do to convince her he wasn’t a villain.

  Still, he would protect her. Not in the hope of rekindling their relationship, but for their child.

  “Not Katrina. She’s pregnant, and she is … unpredictable. I won’t have her train these divers. I’ve found someone else—someone who went through the training and even has several dives under her belt.”

  As they left the operations booth, the fifth and final diver walked into the launch bay.

  “There she is now,” he said.

  Turning, Jordan studied the sergeant’s features. His face had gone slack with shock at the sight of the short, dark-skinned young woman walking across the bay. She moved quickly with a stride that exuded confidence.

  “Erin?” Jenkins said. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  She raised a hand and said, “Hi, Dad.”

  * * * * *

  “This is the biggest damn storm I’ve ever seen in my life,” Magnolia said. She stood in front of the radar station with Michael, Rodger, and Layla. The island of radar and operational equipment chirped, beeped, and flashed data.

  They had finally managed to fix the third and fourth thrusters, increasing the ship’s speed, but Magnolia still had a laundry list of other things to get back online. Her gut growled. The ship wasn’t the only thing running low on power.

  “Looks like a real queen bitch,” Layla added after taking another look at the screen. “I never saw anything like it.”

  Rodger leaned down for a closer look. “This is one hell of a monster. It’s got to stretch over a hundred miles of coastline.”

  “One hundred and thirty miles of coastline, approximately,” Timothy confirmed. “The weather sensors are online now, so I can break it down in feet and inches if you would like.”

  “No, that’s okay,” Michael said. He massaged the bridge of his nose and drew in a breath. “We’re going to have to put down on the edge and trek in. No way in hell we’re going to dive through that.”

  Rodger nudged Magnolia in the side. “See? Told you, Mags.”

  She rolled her eyes. “That’s actually not what you said.”

  “Sure, it is. You never listen to what I—”

  Michael snapped his fingers. “You’re too smart to be that dumb, Rodger Dodger. Now, stop arguing for a damn second. I know you’re all tired, and we’re still grieving, but Weaver and Pipe sacrificed their lives so we could continue with this mission.”

  “I’m sorry,” Magnolia said.

  “Yeah, sorry, Commander,” Rodger said.

  Michael nodded. “There are still multiple secondary systems that aren’t working, and we’re running low on food and water. This isn’t the Hive. There’s no farm or water-treatme
nt plant.”

  “I don’t mean to be a nag,” Rodger said, putting a hand on his gut, “but I’m really hungry. Not sure I can work much more without eating something.”

  “We all are,” Michael said. “So let’s stop complaining and suck it up.” He looked over at Timothy’s hologram. “Bring up a map of the area. I want to identify the best LZ.”

  “One moment, Commander.” The hologram vanished and then reappeared at the helm. A map bloomed across the white surface. The divers gathered around behind the leather chairs that faced the island.

  “This is the source of the SOS,” Timothy said.

  A red X marked the map. The irony wasn’t lost on Magnolia. The spot was where their own X had last transmitted from.

  “It is an old city called Miami,” Timothy said. “The storm covers much of what’s left of the eastern coastline.”

  “What do you mean, ‘left’?” Michael asked.

  “I’ve retrieved the most accurate map I could find in the database. But much has changed since that map was created. Most of what was once southern Florida is now permanently underwater.”

  “So how the hell did X get there?” Rodger asked.

  “He’s X,” Magnolia said with a shrug. “If any human could make it across a place like that, it’s him.”

  “He’s still alive,” Michael said firmly. “I can feel it.”

  There was a moment of silence. Magnolia had a feeling that Rodger and Layla weren’t necessarily believers, but it didn’t matter now. They had come too far to give up.

  “I have identified several potential landing zones,” Timothy said. Three more red marks showed up on the map. “No matter which one you choose, you will have to traverse at least thirty miles through swampland.”

  “Sounds lovely,” Layla said.

  Magnolia had heard tales from other divers—legends passed down from the time when there were more airships in the sky—but no one from the Hive had ever traveled there. The thought of exploring it made her heart quicken from fear and excitement.

  She reached for Rodger’s hand but stopped short and slipped her hand into her coverall pockets instead. She had spent her entire life being afraid of getting close to people after losing her family, her lover, then X, and now Weaver. Everyone she had ever cared about ended up dying.

  Not everyone, she thought. X is still alive.

  Her eyes flitted to Michael and Layla, who stood side by side, studying the topographical holo map over the center island. They had found each other when they were just kids. Somehow, they were still together—much longer than most couples. And while Magnolia felt a connection with Rodger, she didn’t have room in her heart after it had been shattered so many times.

  “I’d like to study the potential LZs before I make my decision,” Michael said. “In the meantime, we need to find food and water. Without supplies, we won’t be able to trek three miles, let alone thirty.”

  Magnolia followed the others around the stations in the central island. She stopped when she saw motion on the radar screen. Something was moving near the right edge, in or over the ocean, which made no sense.

  “What the hell is that?” she said loudly enough to make Michael stop and look over his shoulder.

  “What the hell is what?”

  When Magnolia looked back down, the blinking dot on the radar had vanished.

  “Timothy, are you picking up any contacts in that storm?” she asked.

  “Negative,” said Timothy’s voice over the PA system.

  “Mags, stop messin’ around,” Rodger said.

  “I thought I saw something,” she said. She checked the radar one more time, brushing a strand of blue hair behind her ear, then joined the other divers in the spacious cabin adjoining the bridge.

  They all had been living in the captain’s quarters for the past few days. Although Magnolia didn’t say it, she was too afraid to sleep alone.

  Inside, several bunks and two desks were pushed together. On the metal surface were the supplies they had salvaged after fleeing the Hilltop Bastion.

  “We have three rifles, three blasters, and four revolvers,” Michael said. “We’re down to five flares, fifteen shotgun shells, three magazines of 5.56-millimeter rounds, and twelve .45 rounds for the revolvers.”

  Layla picked up a canteen. “We’ve got about a pint of water left between the four of us, and we’ve got one meal if you count these calorie-rich bars from the Hive.”

  “How are we doing on battery power?” Michael asked, pointing to his armor unit.

  Rodger shook his head wearily. “Not good. Our batteries are all below thirty percent. I think I can rig up the system to charge them, but I need time.”

  “I can help with that,” Magnolia said.

  Michael leaned on his palms over the desk. Several rebel strands of hair fell over his face and he brushed them behind an ear as he looked down at their gear.

  “Timothy, have you finished your search of the ship’s database for other weapons?” he asked.

  “Yes, Commander.” Timothy’s hologram reappeared at the other end of the table. “The armory is stocked with hundreds of weapons of various calibers, and tens of thousands of rounds of ammunition. In addition, there are—”

  “Let me guess,” Rodger interrupted. “We can’t get to any of it without triggering the alarm that will in turn set off the self-destruct system.”

  Timothy dipped his translucent head in agreement.

  “What about water and food?” Magnolia asked. “Have you found anything in the quarters we haven’t searched yet?” She knew there had to be rations somewhere on this ship, but so far, they hadn’t found any.

  “My memory unit is still damaged from the Hilltop Bastion,” said Timothy, “and there are certain places I cannot access. I can, however, tell you which rooms may contain supplies, given the number of lockers present.”

  “Good,” Michael said. “We’ll split up and start searching. As soon as we’re done, I want Rodger and Mags to start working on the batteries, but right now, food and water are our priority. If it’s on the ship, we need to find it.”

  “A word of caution,” Timothy said. “I do not believe you will find what you are looking for.”

  Michael had already turned away from the table, but he halted and glared at the AI. “Why is that?”

  “Because Deliverance was not built to support passengers for long periods of time. That was never its primary purpose.”

  “Neither was the Hive,” Rodger replied, “but we retrofitted it.”

  “There was no reason to retrofit Deliverance,” Timothy said, “nor was it ever used for its primary purpose.”

  There was a moment of silence. Magnolia squinted at the shimmering image, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

  “Wait,” she said, her gut tightening. “What else is in the armory? You were going to say something before Rodger cut you off.”

  “The armory contains twenty-five mega nuclear warheads. They are one thousand times more powerful than a normal warhead. Each of them would produce an explosion large enough to destroy twenty-five hundred square miles.”

  Magnolia had never been good at geographic distances, but even she could visualize how big an area that was. It was hard to imagine a weapon that could create a fireball of that magnitude, and while she had seen the results—the charred surface and the storms raging in the skies—she would never understand why humans had destroyed their beautiful world.

  “This is a warship,” Magnolia whispered. “A world ender.”

  Everyone looked at her, even Timothy, who said, “Precisely, Miss Katib.”

  FIVE

  Les Mitchells felt uneasy as Erin Jenkins led the new divers to their lockers in the launch bay. Her reputation preceded her: strong, smart, beautiful, and aggressive. And she was also the sole survivor of her forme
r Hell Diver team, Wolf. Years ago, they had been caught in the middle of a dust storm that impaled one diver with a steel pole, crushed another, skinned a third alive, and broke the back of the fourth.

  If the rumors were true—and Les had no idea whether they were—then Erin had survived through ruthlessness, not luck. People said she had left her teammates to die while she saved her own skin. Mitchells wasn’t sure about that. So far, he liked her. But he didn’t have a lot of confidence in someone not yet thirty with only a few dives under her belt.

  She’s also here to train your sorry ass, he thought as he approached the lockers. Even from here, he could see the stickers, sketches, and engravings left on the lockers by their previous owners.

  “Claim one,” Erin said, “but respect the divers who came before you. We don’t remove anything from these lockers.” She opened a door marked with a picture of a Wolf.

  He stepped up to a locker and bent down to look at a picture of a bird with yellow eyes, a hooked beak, and black head with white wing feathers.

  “Team Raptor,” Erin said, nodding. “That dynasty ended with the deaths of Michael Everhart and his team at the Hilltop Bastion.”

  Mitchells thought about choosing another locker, but he didn’t want to appear weak. Besides, he rather liked the fierce-looking bird, and the crest on its head reminded him of his own hair.

  She looked to the other divers. “To honor tradition, we’ll come up with our own team name and symbol, but not right now. Today, we’re going to get acquainted with the gear.”

  “You got anything to fit Giraffe?” Tom Price, the cook, asked. He grinned, revealing two missing front teeth.

  Les shrugged a shoulder. He was used to the ribbing about his height, but he was worried about the same thing. At nearly seven feet tall, his body wasn’t designed to fit on an airship with low overheads and tight quarters, and no armor was going to fit him without major modifications.

  Les opened the locker and ran his finger over the pictures left by previous owners. On the interior door was an image of a smiling Hell Diver with his hand on the shoulder of a boy wearing a shiny foil hat.