Hell Divers (13 page)

“Every captain in the history of the ship has been looking for a new home,” X said. “But like I said yesterday, that shit doesn't exist. Ninety-six dives, and I've never seen anything remotely habitable. Forests are dust and a few fallen snags. Waterfalls are cliffs of polished rock. The only life is mutant monstrosities like the Sirens.”

“Nice buzz kill, boss,” said a musical feminine voice. He didn't need to look up to see Katrina standing behind Sam.

“Pull up a chair,” Magnolia said, patting the bench beside her.

“Thanks,” Katrina replied. “You'll have to forgive X. He can be a bit morbid—just one of his many charms.”

“Doesn't everyone deserve to know the truth?” X said, slurping down a forkful of noodles.

“Right, because you're the master of telling the truth,” said Katrina, a tinge of bitterness in her voice.

X's team looked from their leader to Katrina. After a moment, Magnolia broke the tension.

“Most people don't give all that much of a shit,” she said. “They only care about surviving. Another day, another handful of credits. They don't worry about anything 'cept their next meal.”

“You're right,” Katrina said. “Anyway, it doesn't matter. We do what we do, so the rest of those poor bastards keep flying—and breathing—for another day.”

Sam looked over at Murph. “Alright, I know why Magnolia became a diver, but how about you?”

The engineer folded his hands. “I lost my wife to cancer, and my son to the flu, a little over four years ago.” He bowed his head. “I miss them every goddamn day. But I always wanted to see the surface—imagine how it must have been once. Figured I have nothing to lose.”

X realized how little he still knew about the divers from the other teams.

“Sorry to hear about your family, Murph,” he said. “I lost my wife about a year back.” He turned to Sam. “How about you? Why'd you saddle up to jump?”

Sam didn't look entirely sure he wanted to talk. After a moment, he said, “I joined the Militia a few years back, thinking it was the best way to protect the ship. After the food riots, I realized maybe I could make a difference some other way than cracking heads.”

“I'm glad you picked diving,” X said. “And I'm glad all of you are on Raptor.”

“Thanks,” Sam said. “Good to be here, sir.”

X looked at his watch. It was after eight in the evening. He had lost track of time, and Tin was still with Layla's family.

“Sorry I got to duck out early,” he said, “but I got a kid to get home to.”

Katrina's eyes pleaded with him to reconsider. She arched her back ever so slightly, the swell of her breasts beneath the red jumpsuit reminding X of what he could have.

Part of him wanted to take her up on the tacit offer. But the rest of him knew it was a bad idea. He had other responsibilities now. He hadn't been much of a husband, and he never had the chance to be a father, but he'd be damned if he didn't do right by Tin tonight.

“I'll see you all in the morning,” he said. “Get some rest. Tomorrow's a big day.” He patted Murph on the shoulder and nodded at the rest of his team, smiling like a benevolent patriarch.

Then he grabbed an apple and, cradling a bowl of noodles under his arm, left.

He felt the stares from every diver burning his back. Two months ago, he would have stayed and drunk them all under the table. Now he was hurrying home to make sure his dead best friend's kid ate a decent dinner.

When he had the sudden, overwhelming gut feeling that this could be the last chance he ever had to take care of Tin, he started walking faster.

* * * * *

Commander Weaver tracked the high-pitched cries through the city street. They had dwindled into a lonely sound, cold and melancholy. As a kid in history class, he had once heard a recording of whales communicating. The sounds were similar, but those extinct giants of the former oceans were far different from the leathery horrors now hunting him on the ground.

He stopped and rested, leaning against an ice-crusted streetlamp. A long screech, sounding as if an electronic oscillator had been possessed by demons, echoed through the city. Two more of the voices answered, but their lonesome cries died in the howling wind.

Weaver holstered his revolver and unsheathed the tactical knife strapped to his thigh. He took a moment to get his bearings. Two skyscrapers leaned together overhead, their pointed tips creating a skewed arch. He felt unsafe just looking at it. It should have crashed down long ago.

His stomach gurgled as he stood there. He hadn't eaten in over a day. He took a sip from the straw inside his helmet and sucked mostly air. Idly he wondered which would kill him first: the Sirens or dehydration. He raised the tip of his knife to his visor and considered the ways he could use the weapon to end it all right now.

But instead of opening an artery in his throat or wrist, he carefully chipped away the ice on his visor.

The clear view of the world made everything seem bigger, the streets wider. He continued into the next intersection and took a right. The end of the street had collapsed and sloped down, disappearing into what looked like a tunnel. He checked his minimap and saw that the passage was supposed to lead under the next city block. If he was correct, it would come out somewhere near the
Ares
wreckage.

Trotting over to the edge of the decline, he crouched and pulled out the binos.

Perhaps he jounced down too suddenly, because the snowy crust beneath him broke away and sent him sliding on his back down the icy slope.

He rolled left to avoid impaling himself on a black claw of rebar that jutted from a shattered concrete buttress. The binos flew from his hands as he hit a ramp of snow and went airborne before crashing down on a patch of icy concrete a moment later. His armor saved him from any broken bones, though the impact knocked the breath from his lungs. Sharp pain shot up his spine, and he flailed for something to grab on to as he continued his downward slide.

At the bottom of the slope, icicles as tall as he was hung from the lip of the tunnel. Beyond that, he could see only the pitch blackness of the underground passage. He shot underneath the icicles and finally skidded to a halt.

Groaning, he sat up and reached for his back. The armor had likely saved him from a broken tailbone or worse. After the pain subsided, he checked his suit for visible tears. It would be hard to find one in the darkness, but the digital telemetry in the HUD subscreen showed no punctures.

He sat there for several minutes, listening to the whispering wind and taking in his surroundings. He was in the mouth of the dark tunnel, whose frozen walls continued—on the map, at least—for another two hundred yards.

He drew the revolver and took a few tentative steps into the darkness. The voice in his head told him to turn and find an alternative route to the
Ares
wreckage, but climbing back up the icy incline behind him was also a risk. By some miracle, he hadn't ripped his suit, but it could happen easily enough if he slipped again.

Weaver continued for several minutes until he reached the edge of the hole. He stomped the ground a few feet from the edge. It was solid—a concrete surface under the snow. Across the pit, the tunnel continued. He dropped to his belly and peered over the side. Listening, he heard only the faint sound of the wind hissing across the street above the incline.

He shut off his night vision and reached for his headlamp to search for a way across. The beam revealed ancient pipework jutting from the walls. He trained the light around the hole but saw no path to the other side.

Weaver cursed and pushed himself to his knees, knocking loose a chunk of rock. It skittered over the side and clanked to the bottom a few seconds later.

The noise reverberated through the tunnel, where the only sound for centuries had been the howling wind outside. He stepped back from the hole and started retracing his steps. He would have to risk climbing back to the street after all.

A screech froze him in midstride. Gun in hand, he worked his way back to the pit and trained the headlamp beam downward, steeling himself for what he might find.

Deep below, Sirens were slowly crawling out of their bulb-shaped nests. Dozens of the monsters writhed and stretched, as if waking from a long slumber. They seemed oblivious to the beam of light playing over them, but when his boot scuffed the surface ever so softly, they began a frenzied squawking.

The beasts darted for the walls, where they leaped and began scrambling up the sides. Weaver aimed his revolver at one of the leathery abominations and took a cautious step backward as the shrieks grew louder. He thought he was ready to fight and die, but seeing all those open maws, he felt a familiar sensation: primal fear. Shutting off his headlamp, he backed away from the hole, then turned to run.

X knocked on his apartment door and prepared for another night of awkward, resentful silence. So when Tin opened the door, he stumbled backward in surprise. The boy had never done this before.

“Hey,” X mumbled. “How you doing?”

Tin shrugged and continued through the living room and into the kitchen. X hurried after him, cradling the bowl of fruit and noodles under his arm. He hesitated when he saw two plates of leftovers sitting on the kitchen table. Tin took a seat and started wolfing down the food.

X put his cargo down in the middle of the table and glanced down at the day-old noodles Tin had set out.

“For me?” X asked.

Tin nodded.

“Thanks,” X said. “You must be feeling a little better.”

Another nod.

X had hoped the tour of the farms would improve the boy's mood, but given all that had happened afterward, he expected Tin to be traumatized. Hell, what he'd seen in the medical ward this afternoon had rattled
him,
and he was not a man easily rattled.

“How's your head?”

“It's fine,” Tin said.

X dropped his chopsticks in surprise. Tin had actually spoken to him, and not just with a monosyllabic grunt. Real words!

Tin took another bite, then said, “I saw the farms this morning … but you probably already knew that.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“I thought you'd get a kick out of it.”

“We saw two dogs. They were magnificent. Eli said they're called huskies. Silver and Lilly …” Tin's eyes drifted with his voice. “I hope they're okay after the storm.”

“I'm sure they're fine,” X said.

“Did you know they're the last two dogs on the planet?”

X shook his head. “Nope. I've actually seen the farm only a few times, would you believe it?”

“I think I want to apprentice there,” Tin said.

X felt his own smile. It was the first time in years that he felt … What was it called? Oh, right:
happy.

Tin scratched under his hat. “I've never seen anything like it. I can't imagine all the things that keep the farm running. I mean, I can, but …”

“Only a few more years until you're eligible to apprentice, right?”

Tin clutched his plate and stood. “They're taking younger recruits now. Maybe they'll take me early. That would be great. I'd even have my own room assigned to me!”

X's heart ached. The boy was only ten years old.
Ten
goddamn years old and talking like an adult. As with most kids these days, he hadn't had a childhood.

X folded his hands on the table. “Tin, I want you to know something. Will you please sit back down?”

The boy placed his bowl on the table and readjusted his hat. He eyed X skeptically, then sat.

“Your mom and dad would be very proud of you.
I'm
proud of you. You're going to keep this place going. Kids like … Young men like you will keep the
Hive
flying.”

Tin rewarded him with a half smile. “Thanks.”

X put a hand on the boy's shoulder. “No, thank
you,
for finally talking to me!”

“I'm sorry …”

“Don't be,” X said. “You're a good, smart kid. Strong, too. Just like your dad and mom. Someday, long after I'm gone, you'll probably be running this heap of metal and helium.”

X realized that he was talking as if the ship had a future when, in reality, its continued existence had never been more uncertain. But Tin knew what was what. He had grown up knowing that every day might be the last—not just for him, but for all humankind.

“Tomorrow I have to do something to see that you have a future,” X said.

“A dive?” Tin said. His jaw continued moving, but no other words came out. “I was hoping you'd be around for a while.”

“Me, too,” X said. “But I'll be back.” He didn't have the heart to tell the kid how bad things really were. Not now, not after they had just started talking again.

“Okay,” Tin said. He got up again, grabbed both their plates, and took them to the sink.

X could see the wheels turning in the boy's head. After losing his parents, the kid had built up walls. He had just lowered them for X, and the last thing X wanted was to see them go back up.

“Hey, why don't you show me what you've been working on,” X said. He took a seat in the cramped living room and patted the faded place beside him on the couch.

“The vacuum cleaner?” Tin asked. He knelt on the floor, pulled a multitool from his tool belt, then grabbed the dismantled vacuum cleaner on the floor.

“Yeah, that thing's a heap of junk,” X said. “Hasn't worked in years.” He hardly remembered the feeble groan the thing had made when Rhonda pushed it back and forth over the thin carpet.

“I'll get it to work,” Tin said as he twisted off a screw and pulled off a panel.

X watched with interest as the boy worked on the machine. Memories coalesced into images in his mind, and he remembered a time just like this when Aaron had sat by his side, watching Tin work on one of his projects. Rhonda was there, too, knitting X a new pair of socks.

There was something absolute about it all—something final. A lump of anxiety formed in X's stomach at the thought. Normally, he suppressed such feelings by numbing his senses. It hurt to be sober.

But no matter how badly he wanted a drink, X decided to enjoy the moment with Tin, even if his gut ended up being right and it proved to be one of the last they ever shared.

A few minutes later, and the vacuum cleaner whirred to life. Tin glanced up with a broad grin on his face.

“See? Told you I could fix it.”

* * * * *

Maria Ash's alarm clock went off at five a.m. Somewhere ten thousand feet above the
Hive,
the rising sun was setting ablaze the tops of the clouds that covered Earth.

She kissed Mark on the cheek, put her feet on the floor, and got up. Their schedules had conflicted since their last conversation on the bridge, and in the chaos of the past several days, she hadn't had much chance to talk to her husband. She hadn't even told him about the dive yet.

“What time is it?” he mumbled.

“Early. Go back to sleep for a bit.”

“I never even heard you come in last night.” Mark sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Did you think about our conversation again?”

Maria threw on her uniform and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. “My mind hasn't changed, love. Besides, we have more important things to think about right now. In a few hours, I'm sending Team Raptor to the surface.”

“What!” He stared at her with wide eyes. “The ship was damaged
that bad
?”

She nodded.

Mark rested his head back on a pillow decorated with cats. “Just promise me one thing.”

Maria straightened her cuffs, waiting patiently.

“If Raptor returns and Samson fixes the ship, and
,
by some miracle, you do find a place to put the ship down …” He paused to search her eyes. “Promise me you'll resign and accept treatment.”

“Raptor will return and Samson will fix the ship,” Maria replied. She leaned over the bed and kissed Mark on the lips. “And I will find a place.
Then
I promise to accept treatment. I'll see you tonight,” she said with a smile.

“See ya,” he whispered.

Maria drew in a breath and opened the door to the corridor, where two soldiers stood guard. Tucking the promise she had just made into the back of her mind, she walked with them to the bridge. Though she had slept only a few hours, she was filled with energy.

Jordan was already waiting for her in the command center.

“What's our status?” Ash asked. She strode to the communication station and stared at the comm link button. With a push of her finger, her voice would feed to every intercom in the
Hive.
Every one of the 513 citizens would hear her voice. The new number had been confirmed after the storm. When the final tally had reached her desk, the ship had suffered thirty-three deaths.

Now she was about to share with the survivors the most difficult message she had ever relayed in her command. Her throat burned at the thought.

“Captain, we have another problem,” Jordan said.

“Enlighten me.”

“Ty said there's a problem with the launch tubes. The reentry bay is working, but the launch tubes aren't. Something about an open circuit or something. We're going to have to delay Team Raptor's drop.”

“No, we won't,” came a voice at the top of the bridge.

Ash knew that cold tone. It was X. She turned to see him leaning on the railing.

“Captain, give me access to the roof,” he said. “We'll jump from the top of the ship. I've done it before.”

Jordan joined Ash at her side. “I've already got a team of engineers working on the launch tubes,” he said. “We can delay the drop for—”

“We don't have time to delay the launch for a single minute!” X said, his raised voice drawing the stares of several officers. “The clock is ticking. We have to jump now.”

“He's right, Jordan; we don't have time,” Ash said. She prayed X knew what he was doing.

X moved away from the railing and hurried down the stairs. “I want to see the storm for myself.”

Ash joined him at the nav station. She nodded at Ensigns Hunt and Ryan.

“You heard the commander,” she said.

Ryan put on a pair of glasses and took a seat. “Tapping into the cameras on our stern.”

While they waited together, it dawned on Ash that X didn't reek of booze from last night's celebrating. Unusual for him, but she wasn't going to ask questions.

The main display at the front of the bridge flickered to life, and a striking image of the electrical storm over Hades came into view.

“We're six miles east of the storm, Captain,” Ryan said. “And all sensors show the skies are clear below.”

“Looks clear,” Hunt added.

X nodded, satisfied. “Ah'ight, I'll have my team back in a couple hours.” He turned to walk back up the stairs. “Hopefully, with everything Samson needs to keep us in the sky.”

“X,” Ash said.

He paused and turned halfway.

“Be careful.”

“Roger that, Cap,” X said, throwing a haphazard salute. His lips formed what could almost be considered a grin, his pearly white teeth showing for a fleeting instant. Then he was gone, bolting up the stairs and racing out into the hallway. She wasn't sure how to take his change in mood. She hadn't seen him like this for years.

“Jordan, give Ty access to the roof,” she finally said.

Ash imagined what the new members of Raptor were feeling. She could picture the black clouds swirling around the
Hive,
and the deep fear that the vast emptiness evoked. The thought made her bow her head in shame—only minutes ago, she had indulged in self-pity at having to deliver a difficult message.

A message, nothing more.

She shook her head. She had bigger worries, and X and his team were about to risk their lives.

Ash cleared her throat and punched the comm button. The ancient speakers chirped. She repositioned the microphone and said, “Citizens of the
Hive,
this is Captain Maria Ash. This morning I am tasked with sharing dire news. Yesterday, we reached the edge of Hades after receiving a distress call from
Ares.
I don't know how to say this easily, so I'm just going to tell you.
Ares
has been destroyed.” She paused, herself still shocked that it was true. “Our ship,” she continued, “our
home,
was severely damaged in the electrical storms.”

Ash scanned the bridge. Officers she had worked with for years stared back at her, their eyes pleading for some reassurance.

“We still have hope,” Ash said. “I'm deploying Team Raptor to the surface, to search for the parts that we need to keep our home in the sky.”

The comm crackled, and Ash waited for the interference to clear. “In the meantime, engineering will divert all power from noncritical areas of the ship, including the living quarters in both upper and lower decks.”

Ash looked down at her watch and added, “In two hours, those circuits will go offline. I ask everyone to remain calm during this time, and for all nonessential personnel to stay in their quarters. In addition to your cooperation, I also ask that you think of our divers. To those of you who pray, these brave men and women could use some. The future of the
Hive
now rests in their hands. Thank you.”

A strong hand gently squeezed Ash's shoulder. It was the first time in her career that Jordan had tried to comfort her—or touched her at all, for that matter.

“X will come back,” he said. “He always does.”

Ash sighed. “I hope you're right.”

* * * * *

X was first to arrive at the HD facility. He stood in the darkness, savoring the solitary moment and listening to the ship speak through its creaks and groans. It helped him relax before a dive.

After a few minutes, he flicked the lights and walked over to the wall of lockers. The rusted metal was decorated with the faded graffiti of previous owners. Skulls, bullets, extinct animals no living person had ever seen—each symbol had once held meaning for its user. X had drawn the head of a raptor on his locker: yellow eyes and hooked beak, a black head crested with white feathers. The bird was more than the icon for his Hell Diver team. It also symbolized the essence of what diving embodied. He, too, was a predator, but like the memories of the divers before him, the raptor's image was already starting to fade.

One hundred and five
, he thought. That was how many divers had perished. X was the most senior diver aboard the
Hive
—and, he now realized, in the whole world. The idea was numbing. So many lives lost over the years. He closed his eyes for a moment to acknowledge the men and women who had dived and died before him. Then he opened his locker and started pulling out his gear.