Nicholas Smith - Deliverance

“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.”

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 former 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.

“Aaron Everhart,” Les whispered as he recognized the father and son.

Erin leaned over and peered inside. “He was a good man.”

Les nodded. “I was in school with Aaron a long, long time ago. He always wanted to become a Hell Diver. I’m not surprised his son became one, too. My boy, Trey, looked up to Michael. He’s a few years younger, but they liked each other.”

“Aaron wasn’t just any diver. He was one of the best.” Erin studied the picture. “So was Michael.”

She stepped away, and Les watched the other new divers shuffling through the contents of their lockers. Tom pulled out a partly charred leg guard with his finger and thumb as if picking up a dead rat.

“Most of this gear is very old,” Erin said, noticing Tom’s expression. “Divers are expected to take excellent care of their armor and weapons.”

“This guy did a pretty lousy job,” Tom said. He tossed the piece of armor back inside, shut the door, and moved to another locker.

Les went back to going through the equipment in Aaron’s old locker. The suit didn’t look all that small when he held it up. The armor, however, would definitely need significant modifications. The chest piece, which should have come down to his belt, came down only as far as his navel.

Don Olah watched him struggling and laughed. “You’ll be a hell of a target for lightning… and the Sirens.”

Les chuckled at the first part, but the second made him pause.

“Won’t be any Sirens where we’re going,” Erin said. She winked at Les as if to say, Trust me.

He continued struggling with his chest gear, trying to forget the stories about monsters living on the surface. The Hell Divers weren’t supposed to talk about it, but every once in a while, one of them would spill the beans, and the tale would spread through the decks of the Hive .

“All right,” Erin said. “Close your lockers and join me in the operations room.”

Les shut the door with a click. He could tell by the look on Erin’s face that she had bad news. The others, some of them halfway out of their new armor, were all looking at her.

“Screw it, I’m just going to tell you now,” Erin said, running a hand over her short, curly Mohawk. “We have three days to get you ready for something that most divers spend months, even years, training for.”

“Three days?” Tom asked. “We’re supposed to dive in three frickin’ days ?”

Les didn’t know what to think. He had volunteered to help his family, but he hadn’t figured on ending up dead. His daughter was too young to work, his son was in the brig, and his wife was too sick, which left him as the sole provider.

“Captain’s orders,” Erin said. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

Too shocked even to grumble, they finished stowing their new gear in silence. Erin jerked her head at the lockers they were leaving behind. “One hundred and thirteen, if you’re wondering,” she said. “That’s how many divers have come before you.”

“And they’re all dead?” Jennifer asked.

Erin nodded. “Everybody but me, Katrina, and the guys in the med ward.”

“Is that supposed to inspire confidence?” Tom replied. “I would think you’d try to make us feel better or something, especially after you just told us we’re diving in three days.”

“It’s to put things in perspective,” Erin said.

They walked past several launch tubes and stopped outside the entrance to the operations room.

“We’re going to focus on green zones and storm-free skies,” Erin said. “Easy stuff. No Sirens, no giant beetles, no carnivorous plants.”

Jennifer muttered under her breath, “Shit, there’s plants that eat people?”

“Will you be diving with us, ma’am?” Olah asked.

Erin hesitated for a moment and looked over her shoulder. Les assumed she was checking to see whether her dad, Sergeant Jenkins, was in the room.